THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


I 


j^ e^^i>2>t /     (r^  A  «- <^  / z<^^^ 


/z-      ^^^  I  c  /'        /^'^  ^  '  ^y  / 


^  r  t.  «-  <r  <5^  ^  «^'  '^  <^    ^^ 


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A  Winter  in  Russia 


FROM     THE     FJiENCS 
OF 

THf:OPHILE     GAUTIER 


BY 

M.     M.     RIPLEY 

Tratislator  of  Madame  Craven's  '■'■  Fletirange''^ 


NEW    YORK 
HENBY  HOLT  AND   COMPANY 

187.t 


1'rz^l^t'->.  oj-:    iJep^^  ^y  /^.**-«. 


Entered  accortUng  txj  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

HENRY    HOLT, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


John  F.  Trow  &  Son,  Printers, 
205-213  East  i2TH  St.,  New  York. 

Maclauchlan,  Storeotypor, 
145  &  147  Mulberry  St.,  near  Grand,  N.  Y. 


PK 


TO 

E.    M.    C. 


i.»<^fVvviG5x 


CONTENTS 


OnAPTER  TAQB 

I,  — Beblin 1 

II.— IlAMBXIRa 13 

III. — SCHLESWIG 23 

rV,— LUBECK 44 

v.— CBossiNa  THE  Baltic 56 

VI.— St.  Petersbueg 66 

VIL— Winter.— The  Neva 88 

VIII.— Winter 100 

IX. — Races  on  the  Neva 115 

X. — Details  op  Interiors 125 

XI. — A  Ball  at  the  Winter  Palace 136 

XII. —The  Theatres 145 

XIII.— The  Tchoukine-dvor 154 

Xrv.— ZiCHY 103 

XV.— St.  Isaac's 187 

XVI.— Moscow 236 

XVn.— The  Kremlin 2G1 

XVIII.— Troitza 279 

XIX.— Byzantine  Art 298 

XX. — Eeturn  to  France 324 


A  WINTER   IN   RUSSIA. 


BEKLKSr. 


WE  seem  scarce!}^  to  have  started,  and  yet  already 
France  lies  far  behind  lis.  Concerning  the  inter- 
mediate space  traversed  in  his  flight  by  the  nocturnal 
hijipogriff,  I  shall  say  nothing. 

Imagine  me  at  Deutz,  across  the  Ehine,  contemplat- 
ing from  the  end  of  the  bridge  of  boats  that  silhouette 
of^Cologne,  which  the  Jean-Marie  Farina  boxes  have 
rendered  so  familiar,  now  outlined  against  the  splendors 
of  a  sunset  sky;  The  bell  of  the  Rhenish  railway 
strikes.  We  take  our  seats,  and  steam  rushes  off  with 
the  train  at  a  gallop. 

To-morrow 'at  six,  I  shall  bo  in  Berlin;  yesterday, 
wlien  the  street-lamps  Avcrc  lighted,  I  was  in  Paris. 
This  surprises  no  one  but  myself,  in  our  marvellous 
nineteenth  century. 

The  train  spins  along  across  great  plains  gilded  by 
tlie  setting  sun  ;  soon  night  comes,  and  with  it,  sleep. 
At  stations  remote  from  one  another,  German  voices 
shout  German  names;  I  do  not  recognize  them  by  the 
sound,  and  look  for  them  in  vain  upon  the  map.  Mag- 
nificent great  station-houses  are  shown  up  by  gaslight 
in  the  midst  of  surrounding  darlcness,  then  disappear.^ 

We  pass  Hanover  and  Minden  ;  the  train  keeps  on  its 
way ;  and  morning  dawns. 
1 


2  A    WINTER  IJV  RUSSIA. 

On  either  side  stretched  a  peat-moss,  upon  which  the 
mist  was  producing  a  singuhir  mirage.  We  seemed  to 
be  upon  a  canseway  traversing  an  immense  lake  whose 
waves  crept  np  gently,  djnng  in  transparent  folds  along 
the  edge  of  the  embankment.  Here  and  there  a  group 
of  trees  or  a  cottage,  emerging  like  an  island,  completed 
the  illusion,  for  such  it  was.  A  sheet  of  bluish  mist, 
floating  a  little  above  the  ground  and  curling  up  all 
along  its  upper  surface  under  the  rays  of  the  sun,  caused 
this  aqueous  phantasmagoria,  resembling  the  Fata  Mor- 
gana of  Sicily.  In  vain  did  ray  geographical  knov,'l- 
edge  protest,  disconcerted,  against  this  inland  sea,  which 
no  map  of  Prussia  indicates ;  my  eyes  would  not  give  it 
up,  and  later  in  the  day,  when  the  sun,  rising  higher,  had 
dried  up  this  imp^ginary  lake,  they  I'equired  the  presence 
of  a  boat  to  make  them  admit  that  any  body  of  water 
could  be  real. 

Suddenly,  upon  the  left  were  massed  the  trees  of  a 
great  park  ;  Tritons  and  Nereids  appeared,  dabbling  in 
the  basin  of  a  fountain  ;  there  was  a  dome  and  a  circle 
of  columns  rising  above  extensive  buildings ;  and  this 
was  Potsdam. 

Notwithstanding  the  rapidity  of  the  train,  I  observed 
a  couple,  matutinally  sentimental,  pacing  one  of  the  de- 
serted avenues.  The  lover  had  an  excellent  chance  to 
liken  his  mistress  to  Aurora  ;  doubtless  he  had  recited  to 
her  all  the  sonnets  that  ever  were  made  upon  "Zc^  6elle 
viatineuse.'''' 

A  few  moments  later  we  were  in  Berlin,  and  a  flacrc 
set  me  down  at  the  Hotel  de  llussie. 

One  of  the  keenest  pleasures  of  a  traveller  is  that  first 
drive  through  a  hitherto  unknown  city,  destroying  or 
confirming  his  preconceived  idea  of  it.  All  that  is  pe- 
culiar and  characteristic  seizes  upon  the  yet  virgin  eye, 
wliose  percei)tive  power  is  never  more  clear. 

My  idea  of  Berlin  had  been  drawn  in  great  measure 
from  Hoffman's  fantastic  stories.  In  spite  of  myself,  a 
Berlin,  strange  and  grotesque,  peopled  with  Anlic  conn- 


BERLIN.  3 

cillors,  sandmen,  Kreislcrs,  archivist  Lindnrsts,  and  stu- 
dent Ansehns,  had  reared  itself  within  my  brain,  amid 
a  fo£?  of  t()l)acco-sm()ke  ;  and  here  before  me  was  a  city 
re^-idarly  built,  stately,  with  wide  streets,  extensive  pub- 
lic (grounds,  imposing  edifices  of  a  style  half-English, 
half-German,  and  modern  to  the  last  degree. 

As  we  drove  along  I  glanced  down  into  those  cellars, 
with  steps  so  polished,  so  slippei-y,  so  well-soaped,  that 
one  might  slide  in  as  into  the  den  of  an  ant-lion, — to  see 
if  I  might  not  discover  Hoffman  himself  seated  on  a 
tun,  his  feet  crossed  upon  the  bowl  of  his  gigantic  pipe, 
and  surrounded  by  a  tangle  of  grotesque  chimei-as,  as  he 
is  represented  in  the  vignette  of  the  French  translation 
of  his  stories;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  there  was  nothing 
of  the  kind  in  tliese  subterranean  shops  whose  proprie- 
tors were  just  opening  their  doors !  The  cats,  of  be- 
nignant aspect,  rolled  no  phosphorescent  eyeballs,  like 
the  cat  Murr  in  the  story,  and  they  seemed  quite  incapa- 
ble of  writing  their  memoirs,  or  of  deciphering  a  score 
of  Richard  Wagner's. 

jSTothing  is  more  prosaic  than  Berlin,  and  it  needed  all 
the  wild  imagination  of  the  story-teller  to  lodge  ]>han- 
toms  in  a  city  so  full  of  daylight,  so  regular,  so  well- 
built,  where  the  bats  of  hallucination  could  not  find  one 
dark  corner  in  which  to  cling. 

These  handsome  stately  houses,  which  are  like  palaces, 
with  their  columns  and  pediments  and  architraves,  are 
built  of  l)rick  f<jr  the  most  part,  for  stone  seems  rare  in 
Berlin  ;  l)ut  the  brick  is  covered  with  cement  or  tinted 
stucco,  to  simulate  hewn  stone ;  deceitful  seams  indicate 
imaginary  layers,  and  the  illusion  would  be  complete, 
were  it  not  that  in  spots  the  winter  frosts  have  detached 
the  cement,  revealing  the  red  shades  of  the  baked  clay. 
Tiie  necessity  of  ])aiiiting  the  whole  fa9ade,  in  order  to 
mask  the  nature  of  the  material,  gives  the  effect  of  enor- 
mous architectural  decorations  seen  in  open  air.  The 
salient  parts,  mouldings,  cornices,  entablatures,  (consoles, 
are  of  wood,  bronze,  or  cast-iron,  to  which  suitable  forms 


4  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

have  been  given  ;  wlien  you  do  not  look  too  closely  tlic 
effect  is  satisfactory.  Truth  is  the  only  thing  lacking 
in  all  this  splendor. 

The  palatial  buildings  which  border  Regent's  Park  in 
London  present  also  these  porticos,  and  these  columns 
with  brick  cores  and  plaster-fluting,  which,  by  aid  of  a 
coating  of  oil  paint,  are  expected  to  pass  for  stone  or  mar- 
ble. Why  not  build  in  brick  frankly,  since  its  warm 
coloring  and  capacity  for  ingeniously  varied  arrange- 
ment furnish  so  many  resources  ?  Even  in  Berlin  I  have 
seen  charming  houses  of  this  kind  which  had  the  advan- 
tage of  being  truthful.  A  fictitious  material  always  in- 
spires a  certain  uneasiness. 

The  Hotel  de  Russie  is  very  well  located,  and  I  pro- 
pose to  sketch  the  view  seen  from  its  steps.  It  will 
give  a  fair  idea  of  the  general  character  of  the  city. 

The  foreground  is  a  quay  bordering  the  Spree.  A  few 
boats  witli  slender  masts  are  sleeping  on  the  brown 
water.  Vessels  upon  a  canal  or  a  river,  in  the  heart  of 
a  city,  have  always  a  charming  effect. 

Along  the  opposite  quay  stretches  a  line  of  liouses  ;  a 
few  of  them  ai'C  ancient,  and  bear  the  stamp  thereof ; 
tlie  king's  palace  makes  the  corner.  A  cupola  upon  an 
octagonal  tower  rises  proudly  above  the  other  roofs,  the 
square  sides  of  the  to'^ver  adding  grace  to  the  curve  of 
the  dome. 

A  bridge  spans  the  river,  reminding  me,  with  its  white 
marble  groups,  of  the  Ponte  San  Angelo  at  Pome. 
These  groups — eight  in  number,  if  my  memory  does  not 
deceive  me — are  each  composed  of  two  figures ;  one 
aHogorical,  winged,  representing  the  country,  or  Glory; 
the  other,  a  young  man,  guided  through  many  trials  to 
victory  or  immortality.  These  groups,  in  purely  classic 
taste,  are  not  wanting  in  merit,  and  show  in  some  parts 
good  study  of  the  nude  ;  their  pedestals  are  ornamented 
with  medallions,  whereon  the  Prussian  eagle,  half-real, 
half-heraldic,  makes  a  flue  appearance.  Considered  as 
a  decoration,  the  whole  is,  in  my  opinion,  somewhat  too 


BERLIN.  5 

ricli  for  the  slmplicitj  of  the  bridge,  whicli  opens  mid- 
way to  allow  the  passage  of  vessels. 

Farther  on,  through  the  trees  of  a  public  garden  of 
some  kind,  a[>pcars  tlie  old  Musenm,  a  gi'eat  stmctnre  in 
the  Greek  style,  with  Doric  columns  relieved  against  a 
painted  background.  At  the  corners  of  the  roof,  bronze 
horses  hold  by  grooms  are  outlined  npo;ii  the  sky. 

Behind  this  building,  and  looking  sideways,  you  per- 
ceive the  triangular  pediment  of  the  new  Museum. 

On  crossing  the  bridge,  the  dark  f a9ade  of  the  palace 
comes  in  view,  v/itli  its  balustradod  terrace;  the  carv- 
ings around  the  main  entrance  are  in  that  old,  exagger- 
ated (lerman  rocoGo  whicli  I  have  seen  before  and  have 
admired  in  the  palace  in  Dresden.  This  kind  of  bar- 
baric taste  has  something  chai-ming  about  it,  and  enter- 
tains the  eye,  satiated  with  ch(ifs  cfceuvre.  It  has  inven- 
tion, fancy,  originality  ;  and  though  I  may  be  censured 
for  the  opinion,  I  confess  I  prefer  this  exuberance  to  the 
coldness  of  the  Greek  style  iuiitated  with  more  erudition 
than  success  in  our  modern  public  buildings. 

At  each  side  stand  great  bronze  horses  pawing  the 
ground,  and  held  by  naked  grooms. 

I  visited  the  apartments  of  the  palace ;  they  are  rich 
and  elegant,  but  present  nothing  interesting  to  the  artist 
save  their  •ancient  recessed  ceilings  tilled  with  curious 
iigures  and  arabesques.  In  the  concert-hall  there  is  a 
musicians'  gallery  in  grotescpie  carving,  silvered  ;  its 
effect  is  really  charming.  Silver  is  not  used  enough  in 
decorations ;  it  is  a  relief  from  the  classic  gold,  and  forms 
admirable  combinations  with  colors.  The  chapel,  whose 
dome  rises  above  the  rest  of  the  building,  is  no  doubt 
pleasing  to  Protestants.  It  is  well  plauned  and  well 
lighted,  comfortable,  reasonably  decorated ;  but  to  one 
who  has  visited  the  Catholic  churches  of  Spain,  Itah^ 
Delgium,  and  France,  it  is  not  very  impressive.  One 
thing  in  it  surprised  me — to  see  Melancthon  and  Theo- 
dore Beza,  painted  on  gold  backgrtjunds;  however, 
nothing  could  be  more  natural. 


6  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

Let  us  cross  the  square  aud  talce  a  look  at  the  Museum, 
admiring,  as  we  pass,  an  iinmeuso  pr>rphjry  vase  stand- 
ing on  cubes  of  the  same  material,  in  front  of  the  steps 
which  lead  up  to  the  portico.  Tiiis  portico  is  painted  in 
fresco  by  various  hands,  under  the  direction  of  the  cel- 
ebrated Peter  Cornelius. 

The  paintings  form  a  broad  frieze,  folding  itself  back 
at  each  end  upon  the. side  v/all  of  the  portico,  and  inter- 
ruijted  in  the  middle  to  give  access  to  the  Museum. 

The  portion  on  the  left  contains  a  whole  poem  of 
injthologic  cosmogony,  treated  with  that  philosophy  and 
that  erudition  which  the  Germans  carry  into  composi- 
tions of  this  kind;  the  right,  purely  anthropologic,  rep- 
resents the  birth,  development,  and  evolution  of  human- 
ity. 

If  I  were  to  describe  in  detail  these  two  immense 
frescos,  you  would  certainly  be  charmed  with  the  inge- 
nious invention,  i\\e,  profound  knowledge,  and  the  excel- 
lent judgment  of  the  artist.  The  mysteries  of  the  early 
creation  are  penetrated,  and  everything  is  faultlessly 
scientific.  Also,  if  I  should  show  you  them  in  the  form 
of  those  fine  German  engi-avings,  the  lines  heightened 
by  delicate  shadows,  the  execution  as  accurate  as  that  of 
Albrecht  Durer,  the  tone  light  and  harmonious,  you 
would  admire  the  ordering  of  the  composition,  balanced 
w-ith  so  much  art,  the  groups  skilfully  united  one  to 
another,  the  ingenious  episodes,  the  wise  selection  of  the 
attributes,  the  significance  of  each  separate  thing ;  3'ou 
might  even  find  grandeur  of  style,  an  air  of  magisterial 
dignity,  fine  effects  of  drapery,  proud  attitudes,  well- 
marked  types,  muscular  audacities  d  la  Michel  Angelo, 
and  a  certain  Germanic  savager}^  of  fine  fiavor.  You 
would  be  struck  with  this  free  handling  of  great  subjects, 
this  vast  conceptive  power,  this  carrying  out  of  an  idea, 
which  French  painters  so  often  lack ;  and  you  would 
think  of  Cornelius  almost  as  highly  as  the  Germans  do. 
]hit  in  the  presence  of  tlie  work  itself,  the  impression  is 
completely  different. 


BERLm.  7 

I  am  well  aware  tliat  fresco-painting,  even  in  the  hands 
of  the  Italian  masters,  skilful  as  they  were  in  the  tech- 
nical details  of  their  art,  lias  not  the  charm  of  oil.  The 
eye  must  become  habituated  to  this  rude,  lustreless 
coloring,  before  we  can  discern  its  beauties.  Many 
])eople  who  never  say  so — for  nothing  is  more  rare  than 
the  courage  to  avow  a  feeling  or  an  opinion — find  the 
frescos  of  the  Vatican  and  the  Sistine  frightful ;  but 
the  great  names  of  Michel  Angelo  and  Haphael  impose 
silence  upon  them;  they  murmur  vague  formulas  of 
enthusiasm,  and  go  off  to  rhapsodize — this  time  with  sin- 
cerity— over  some  Magdalen  of  Guide,  or  some  Madonna 
of  Carlo  Dolce.  I  make  large  allowance,  therefore,  for 
the  unattractive  aspect  which  belongs  to  fresco-painting ; 
but  in  this  case,  the  execution  is  by  far  too  repulsive. 
The  mind  may  be  content,  but  the  eye  suffers.  Paint- 
ing, which  is  altogether  a  plastic  art,  can  express  its 
ideal  only  tln-ough  forms  and  colors.  To  think  is  not 
enough;  something  nmst  be  done.  The  most  beautiful 
design  requires  to  be  translated  by  a  skilful  pencil,  and 
if,  in  these  great  works,  we  are  willing  to  dispense  with 
perspective,  to  have  the  details  simplified,  the  coloring 
neutral  and,  so  to  speak,  historic,  at  least  we  desire  to 
be  spared  crude  tints,  outrageous  discords,  and  a 
blundering,  awkward,  or  heavy  touch.  However  great 
respect  may  be  due  to  the  idea,  the  first  merit  in  paint- 
ing is  to  be  jiainting,  and  a  material  execution  like  this 
is  a  veil  between  the  spectator  and  the  artist's  conception. 

The  only  French  representative  of  this  philosophic 
art  is  Chenavard,  the  author  of  cartoons  destined  to  dec- 
orate the  Pantheon,  a  gigantic  work,  rendered  useless 
by  the  restoration  of  the  edifice  to  divine  worship,  but 
for  which  a  place  should  be  found  elsewhere,  since  the 
study  of  these  tine  compositions  would  certainly  be 
profitable  to  our  painters,  who  have  the  opposite  fault 
from  the  Germans,  and  seldsnn  offend  through  excess  of 
ideal.  But  (Chenavard,  like  a  wise  man,  never  exchanged 
the  crayon  for  the  brush.     He  wrote  out  his  thoughts — 


8  A  WmTER  m  RUSSIA. 

not  painted  them.  However,  if  at  any  future  time  it 
sliould  be  proposed  to  execute  them  upon  the  Avails  of 
some  public  building,  there  will  not  be  lacking  expert 
patricians  who  will  give  them  suitable  coloring. 

I  shall  not  now  give  an  inventory  of  the  Museum  in 
Berlin,  which  is  rich  in  pictures  and  statues  :  to  do  this 
would  require  more  space  than  is  at  my  command.  We 
find  represented  here,  more  or  less  favorably,  all  the 
great  mastei's,  the  pride  of  royal  galleries.  But  tlie  most 
remarkable  thing  in  this  collection  is  the  very  numerous 
and  very  complete  collection  of  the  primitive  painters 
of  all  countries  and  all  schools,  from  the  Byzantine 
down  to  those  which  immediately  precede  the  Kenais- 
sance.  The  old  German  school,  so  little  kno\vn  in 
France,  and  on  many  accounts  so  curious,  is  to  be  stud- 
ied to  better  advantage  here  than  anywhere  else. 

A  rotunda  contains  tapestries  after  designs  by 
Raphael,  of  which  the  original  cartoons  are  now  in 
Hampton  Court. 

The  staircase  of  the  new  Museum  is  decorated  with 
those  remarkable  frescos  by  Kaulbach,  which  the  art 
of  engraving  and  the  Universal  Exposition  have  made  so 
well  known  in  France.  We  all  remember  the  cartoon 
entitled  "  The  Dispersion  of  Ilaces,"  and  all  Paris  has 
admired,  in  Goupil's  window,  that  poetic  "  Defeat  of 
the  Huns,"  where  the  strife  begun  between  the  living 
warriors  is  carried  on  amidst  the  disembodied  souls  that 
hover  above  that  battle-field  strewn  with  the  dead. 
"  The  Destruction  of  Jerusalem"  is  a  fine  composition, 
though  somewhat  too  theatrical.  It  resembles  a  "  close 
of  the  fifth  act "  much  moi'e  than  beseems  the  serious 
character  of  fresco  painting.  In  the  panel  Avhicli 
represents  Hellenic  civilization.  Homer  is  the  central 
figure  ;  this  composition  pleased  me  least  of  all.  Other 
paintings  as  yet  unfinished  present  the  climacteric 
epochs  of  humanity.  The  last  of  these  will  be  almost 
contem])orary,  for  Avhen  a  German  l)Ogins  to  paint, 
universal  history  comes  under  review ;  the  great  Italian 


BERLIN.  9 

painters  did  not  need  so  much  in  achieving  tlieir 
master-pieces.  But  each  civilization  has  its  peculiar 
tendencies,  and  tliis  encyclopaedic  painting  is  a  charac- 
tei-istic  of  tlic  present  time.  It  would  seem  that,  before 
flinging  itself  into  its  new  career,  the  world  has  felt  the 
necessity  of  making  a  synthesis  of  its  past. 

These  compositions  are  separated  by  arabesques, 
emblems,  and  allegorical  figures  having  reference  to 
the  different  subjects,  and  surmounted  by  a  frieze  in 
black  and  white,  full  of  charming  and  ingenious  de- 
vices. 

Kaulbach  constantly  seeks  effects  resulting  from  tlie 
use  of  color,  and  if  he  docs  not  always  find  them,  he  at 
least  avoids  harsh  discords  ;  he  makes  overmuch  use  of 
reflections,  transparencies,  high  liglits,  touches  of  daz- 
zling color,  and  his  frescos  sometimes  resemble  the 
pictures  of  Ilayez  or  Theophile  Fragonard,  lie  makes 
a  wel)  of  varied  tints  where  one  broad  local  color  would 
have  been  enough  ;  with  his  inopportune  effects  of  light 
and  shade  he  bores  holes  in  the  wall  which  he  ought 
merely  to  cover,  for  fresco  is  a  kind  of  tapestry,  and 
it  should  never  disturb  by  depths  of  perspective  the 
general  architectural  lines.  To  sum  up  all,  Kaulbach 
takes  more  pains  with  the  execution  of  his  work  than 
do  the  pure  thinkers,  and  his  painting,  though  humani- 
tarian, is  human  still. 

This  staircase,  which  is  of  colossal  size,  is  ornamented 
with  casts  from  the  finest  antiques.  Copies  of  the 
metopes  of  the  Pantheon  and  friezes  from  the  temple 
of  Theseus  are  set  into  its  walls,  and  upon  one  of  the 
landings  stands  the  Pandrosion,  wnth  all  the  strong  and 
tranquil  beauty  of  its  Caryatides.  The  effect  of  the 
whole  is  very  grand. 

"  I>ut,"  do  you  say,  "  ^vhat  about  the  inhabitants  ? 
You  have  mentioned  only  houses  and  pictures  and 
statues, — Berlin  is  not  a  deserted  city!"  Doubtless 
not ;  but  I  spent  only  a  day  in  l^erlin,  and — cspe(;ially 
as  I  am  ignorant  of  the  German  language ! — had  not 


10  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

the  opportunity  to  make  any  very  profound  ethnographic 
researches.  At  the  present  day  there  is  no  loni^-er  any 
visible  difference  between  the  people  of  one  country  and 
of  another.  The  uniform  domino  of  civilization  is  worn 
everywhere,  and  no  difference  in  color,  no  special  cut 
of  the  a;arment,  notifies  you  that  you  are  away  from 
home.  The  men  and  women  whom  I  met  in  the  street 
escape  descri]>tion ;  \\\Qfidrieurs  of  Unter  den  Linden 
are  exactly  like  the  flaneurs  of  the  Boulevard  des 
Italiens. 

This  avenue,  bordered  by  splendid  houses,  is  planted, 
as  its  name  indicates,  Avith  lindens;  trees ''whoso  leaf 
is  shaped  like  a  heart,"  as  Ileinrich  Heine  remarks, — a 
peculiarity  which  makes  Unter  den  Linden  dear  to 
lovers,  and  eminently  suited  for  sentimental  interviews. 

At  its  entrance  stands  that  equestrian  statue  of  Fred- 
crick  the  Great,  of  which  a  reduced  copy  figured  at  the 
Exposition. 

Like  the  Champs-Elysees  in  Paris,  this  avenue  termi- 
nates at  a  triumphal  arch,  surmounted  by  a  chariot  with 
four  bronze  horses.  Passing  under  the  arch,  we  come 
out  into  a  park  in  some  degree  resembling  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne. 

Along  the  edge  of  this  park,  which  is  shadowed  by 
gi-eat  trees  having  all  the  intensity  of  northern  verdure, 
and  freshened  by  a  little  winding  stream,  open  iiower- 
crowded  gardens,  in  whose  depths  you  can  discern  sum- 
mer retreats,  which  are  neither  chalets,  nor  cottages, 
nor  villas,  but  Pompeian  houses  with  their  tetrastylic 
porticos  and  panels  of  antique  red.  The  Greek  taste  is 
held  in  high  esteem  in  Berlin.  On  the  other  hand,  tliey 
seem  to  disdain  the  style  of  the  Renaissance,  so  nmch 
in  vogue  in  Paris ;  I  saw  no  edifice  of  this  kind  in 
Berlin. 

jS^ight  came ;  and  after  paying  a  hasty  visit  to  tlie 
zoological  garden,  where  all  the  animals  were  asleep,  ex- 
cept a  dozen  long-tailed  paroquets  and  cockatoos,  who 
w'ere  screaming  from  their  perches,  pluming  themselvcSj 


BERLIN.  11 

and  raising  tlicir  crests,  I  returned  to  my  hotel  to  strap 
my  trunk  and  betake  myself  to  the  Hamburg  railway- 
station,  as  tlie  train  would  leave  at  ten,  a  circumstance 
which  prevented  me  from  going,  as  I  had  intended,  to 
the  opera  to  hear  Cherubini's  "  J)eux  Journces,"  and  to 
see  Louise  Taglioni  dance  the  Sevillana. 

"  What !  One  day,  and  no  more,  in  Berlin  ?  "  For 
the  traveller  there  are  but  two  ways :  the  instantaneous 
proof,  or  the  prolonged  study.  Time  failed  me  for  the 
latter.  Deign  to  accept  this  simple  and  rapid  impres- 
sion. 


n. 

HAMBTJEG. 

TO  describe  a  night  journey  by  rail  is  a  ciifiicnlt 
matter ;  yon  go  like  an  arrow  whistling  through  a 
cloud  ;  it  is  traN'elling  in  the  abstract.  You  cross  prov- 
inces, kingdoms  even,  unawares.  From  time  to  time 
during  the  night,  I  saw  through  the  window  the  comet, 
rushing  down  upon  the  earth,  with  lowered  head  and 
hair  streaming  far  behind  ;  sudden  glares  of  gaslight 
dazzled  my  eyes,  sanded  with  the  gold-dust  of  sleep  ;  or 
tlic  pale  bluish  radiance  of  the  moon  gave  an  air  of 
fairy-land  to  scenes  doubtless  poor  enough  by  day. 
Conscientiously,  this  is  all  I  can  say  from  personal 
observation ;  and  it  would  not  be  particularly  amusing  if 
I  should  transcribe  from  the  railway  guide  the  names  of 
all  tlie  stations  between  Berlin  and  Hamburg, 

It  is  7  A.  M.,  and  here  we  are  in  the  good  Hanse  town 
of  Hamburg ;  the  city  is  not  yet  awake,  or  at  most  is 
rubbing  its  eyes  and  yawning.  While  they  are'preparing 
my  breakfast,  I  sall}'^  forth  at  random,  as  my  custom  is, 
without  guide  or  cicerone,  in  pursuit  of  the  unknown. 

The  Hotel  de  I'Enrope,  at  which  I  have  been  set 
down,  is  situated  on  tlie  quay  of  the  Alster,  a  basin  as 
large  as  the  Lac  d'Enghien,  which  it  still  farther  re- 
sembles in  being  peopled  with  tame  swans. 

On  three  sides,  the  Alster  basin  is  bordered  with 
hotels  and  handsome  modern  houses.  An  embankment 
planted  with  trees  and  commanded  by  a  wind-mill  in 
])rc-lilc  foi-ms  the  fourth ;  beyond,  extends  a  great 
lagoon. 

From  the  most  frequented  of  these  quays,  a  cafe 
painted  green  and  built   on   piles,  makes  out  into  the 


HAMBURG.  13 

water,  like  that  cafe  of  the  Golden  Horn  whore  I  have 
smoked   so   many   chibouques,   watclnng   the   sea-bird 

fly- 

At  the  Bi;i;lit  of  this  quay,  this  basin,  these  houses,  I 
experienced  an  inexplicable  sensation  :  I  seemed  to 
know  them  already.  Confused  recollections  of  them 
arose  in  my  memory ;  could  I  have  been  in  Hamburg 
without  being  aware  of  it  ?  Assuredly  all  tliese  objects 
are  not  now  to  me,  and  yet  I  am  seeing  them  for  the 
Urst  time.  Have  I  preserved  the  impression  made  by 
some  picture,  some  photograph  ? 

Willie  I  was  seeking  philosophic  explanations  for 
this  memory  of  the  unknown,  the  idea  of  Ileinrich 
Heine  suddenly  presented  itself,  and  all  became  clear. 
The  great  poet' had  often  spoken  to  me  of  Hamburg,  in 
those  plastic  words  he  so  well  knew  how  to  use — words 
that  were  equivalent  to  realities.  In  his  Eeuehllder, 
lie  describes  the  scene — cafe,  basin,  swans,  and  towns- 
folk upon  the  quays — Heaven  knows  what  portraits  he 
makes  of  them !  Ho  returns  to  it  again  in  his  poem, 
"  Gerinania,^^  and  there  is  so  much  life  to  the  picture, 
such  distinctness,  such  relief,  that  sight  itself  teaches 
you  notliing  more. 

I  made  the  circuit  of  the  basin,  graciously  accompa- 
nied by  a  snow-white  swan,  handsome  enough  to  make 
one  think  it  might  be  Jupiter  in  disguise,  seeking  some 
Hamburg  Leda,  and,  the  better  to  carry  out  the  decep- 
tion, snapping  at  the  bread-crumbs  offered  him  by  the 
traveller. 

On  the  farther  side  of  the  basin,  at  tlfe  right,  is  a 
sort  of  garden  or  public  promeiuide,  having  an  artificial 
hillock,"  like  that  in  the  Labyrinth  in  the  Jardin  des 
Plantes..  Having  gone  thus  far,  I  turned  and  retraced 
my  steps. 

Every  city  has  its  fashionable  quarter — new,  expen- 
sive, handsome — of  which  the  citizens  are  proud,  and 
through  which  the  valet  de  place  leads  yon  with  much 
complacency.     The  streets  arc  broad  and  regular,  and 


14  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

cut  one  anotlier  at  right  angles  ;  there  are  sidewalks  of 
granite,  brick,  or  bitumen ;  there  are  lamp-posts  in 
every  direction.  The  houses  are  like  palaces ;  their 
classically  modern  architecture,  their  irreproachable 
paint,  their  varnished  doors  and  well-scoured  brasses, 
till  with  joy  the  city  fathers  and  every  lover  of  progress. 
This  is  neat,  orderly,  salubrious,  full  of  light  and  air, 
and  resembles  Paris  or  London.  There  is  the  Ex- 
change !  It  is  superb — as  fine  as  the  Bourse  in  Paris  ! 
I  grant  it;  and,  besides,  you  can  smoke  there,  which  is 
a  point  of  superiority.  Farther  on  you  observe  the 
Palace  of  Justice,  the  bank,  etc.,  built  in  the  style  you 
know  so  well,  adored  by  Philistines  of  every  laud. 
Doubtless  that  house  must  have  cost  enormously ;  it 
contains  all  possible  luxury  and  comfort.  You  feel 
that  the  mollusk  of  such  a  shell  can  be  nothing  less 
than  a  millionnaire.  Permit  me,  however,  to  love  better 
the  old  house  with  its  overhanging  stories,  its  roof  of 
irregular  tiles,  and  all  its  little  characteristic  details, 
telling  of  former  generations.  To  be  interesting,  a  city 
must  have  the  air  of  having  lived,  and,  in  a  sense,  of 
having  received  from  man  a  soul.  What  makes  these 
magniiicent  streets  built  yesterday  so  cold  and  so  tire- 
some, is  that  they  are  not  yet  impregnated  with  human 
vitality. 

Leaving  the  new  quarter,  I  penetrated  by  degrees 
into  the  chaos  of  the  old  streets,  and  soon  I  had  before 
my  eyes  a  characteristic,  picturesque  Hamburg  ;  a  gen- 
nine  old  city  with  a  mediaeval  stamp  which  would  de- 
light Boniugton,  Isabey,  or  William  Wyld. 

I  walked  slowly,  stopping  at  every  street-corner  that 
I  might  lose  no  detail  of  the  picture ;  and  rarely  has 
any  promenade  amused  me  so  welL 

Ileuses,  whose  gables  are  denticulated  or  else  curved 
in  volutes,  throw  out  successive  overhanging  stories, 
each  composed  of  a  row  of  windows,  or,  more  properly, 
of  one  window  divided  into  sections  by  carved  uprights. 
Beneath  each  house  are  excavated  cellars,  subterranean 


HAMBURG.  15 

recesses,  which  the  steps  leading  to  the  front  door  be- 
stride like  a  drawbi-idge.  Wood,  brick,  stone,  and 
slate,  mingled  in  a  vray  to  content  tlic  eye  of  a  colorist, 
cover  what  little  space'^the  windows  leave  on  the  outside 
of  the  house.  All  this  is  surmounted  by  a  roof  of  red 
or  violet  tiles,  or  tarred  plank,  interrupted  by  openings 
to  give  light  to  the  attics,  and  having  an  abrupt  pitch. 
These  steej)  roofs  look  well  against  the  backgi-ound  of  a 
northern  sky;  the  rain  runs  off  them  in  torrents,  the 
snow  slips  from  them  ;  they  suit  the  climate,  and  do 
not  require  to  be  swept  in  winter. 

It  was  a  Saturday.  Hamburg  was  at  her  toilette. 
Servants,  perched  aloft,  were  cleaning  windows,  and 
the  sashes,  which  opened  outward,  projected  mio  the 
street  from  both  sides  of  the  way.  A  light  mist,  gilded 
by  the  sun,  gave  a  warm,  brownish  tint  to  the  picture  ; 
and  the  sun'shine,  taking  the  houses  in  proHle,  struck 
full  upon  the  opened  window-sashes.  It  would  be  difli- 
cult  to  imagine  the  strange,  rich  coloring  which  these 
panes  of  glass  assumed,  placed  one  behind  another  all 
the  way  down  the  rows  of  houses,  and  pierced  by  level 
rays  of  the  sun,  darted  the  length  of  the  street.  Those 
windows,  with  the  glass  so  green  and  full  of  bubbles, 
which  belong  to  tlie  mysterious  interiors  where  Rem- 
brandt delights  to  lodge  his  alchemists,  had  not,  nnder 
their  glaze  of  bitumen,  warmer,  more  transparent,  more 
splendid  tints. 

The  windows  being  shut,  all  this  disappears  of  course  ; 
still  remain,  however,  signs  and  signboards,  which  com- 
pel the  attention  of  the  passer-by  with  their  symbolic 
devices,  and  their  letters  detached  from  the  wall  and 
invading  the  sidewalk.  Strict  municipal  regulations  no 
doubt  s^liould  forbid  this  jirojecting  beyond  the  align- 
ment ;  but  all  this  agreeably  interrupts  the  monotony, 
amuses  the  eye,  and  varies  the  pi-ospect  by  unexpected 
angles.  Here  we  have  a  shield  in  glass  of  various 
colors,  flashing  in  the  sunshine,  with  ruby,  emerald,  and 
topaz  light ;    this  announces  an  optician,  or,  iu  some 


10  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

places,  a  confectioner.  Here,  suspended  to  a  great  orna- 
mental specimen  of  locksmith's  work,  a  lion,  holding  in 
one  paw  a  compass,  and  in  the  other,  a  mallet,  emblem 
of  some  guild  of  coopers.  Elsewhere,  the  copper  basi];s 
of  the  barber,  bright  enough  to  make  Membrinus'  fa- 
mous helmet  look  like  verdigris ;  boards  on  which  are 
painted  oysters,  lobsters,  herrings,  soles,  and  other  prod- 
uce of  the  sea,  indicating  a  lish-dealor;  and  so  on, 
indciinitelj. 

Some  houses  have  doors  ornamented  with  rustic  col- 
umns, scroll-work,  recessed  pediments,  chubby-cheeked 
Caryatides,  little  angels  and  loves,  stout  rosettes  and. 
enormous  shells,  all  glued  over  with  whitewash  renewed 
doubtless  every  year. 

The  tobacco-sellers  in  Hamburg  cannot  be  counted. 
At  c\cry  third  step  you  behold  a  bare-chested  negro  cul- 
tivating the  precious  leaf,  or  a  Grand  Seigneur,  attired 
like  the  theatrical  Turk,  smoking  a  colossal  pipe. 
Boxes  of  cigars,  with  their  more  or  less  fallacious  vig- 
nettes and  labels,  figure,  symmetrically  disposed,  in  the 
ornamentation  of  the  sliop-fronts.  There  naust  be  vcr}'- 
little  tobacco  left  at  Havana,  if  we  can  have  faith  in 
these  displays,  so  rich  in  famous  brands. 

As  I  have  said,  it  was  early  morning.  Servant-maids, 
kneeling  on  the  steps  or  standing  on  the  window-sills, 
"sverc  going  on  with  the  Saturday  scrubbing.  Notwith- 
standing the  keen  air,  they  made  a  display  of  robust 
arms  bare  to  the  shoulder,  tanned  and  sunburnt,  red 
with  that  astonishing  vermillion  that  we  see  in  some  of 
Rubens'  paintings,  which  is  the  joint  result  of  the  bit- 
ing of  the  north  wind  and  the  action  of  water  upon 
these  blond  skins  ;  little  girls  belonghig  to  the  poorer 
classes,  with  braided  hair,  bare  arms,  and  low-necked 
fi'ocks,  were  going  out  to  obtain  articles  of  food  ;  I 
sliivered  in  my  paletot,  to  see  them  so  lightly  clad. 
Thoi-e  is  something  strange  about  this ;  the  Avomen  of 
northern  countries  cut  their  dresses  out  in  the  neck,  they 
go  about  bare-headed  and  bare-ai'med,  while  the  women 


EAMBURQ.  17 

of  the  South  cover  themselves  with  vests,  liaichs^  pe- 
lisses, and  warm  garments  of  every  description. 

To  give  the  finishing  tonch  to  my  gratification,  Cos- 
tume— which  the  traveller  of  to-day  is  forced  to  go  so 
far  to  seek,  and  often  fails  of  finding — appeared  with 
much  ndimi'b  before  my  eyes  in  the  streets  of  Hamburg, 
in  the  persons  of  milk-women,  resembling  somewhat  the 
female  water-carriers  of  Venice.  Their  dress  consisted 
of  a  skirt,  clinging  close  over  the  hips,  and  laid  in  very 
small  plaits,  lield  in  place  by  transverse  strings,  and 
spreading  out  below,  and  a  jacket  of  green  or  bluish 
cloth,  buUoned  at  the  wrists.  Sometimes  this  skirt  is 
striped  lengtliwise ;  sometimes  it  has  a  broad  band  of 
cloth  or- velvet  around  the  edge  ;  blue  stockings,  which 
the  short  skirt  leaves  well  in  sight,  and  shoes  with 
wooden  soles  complete  this  attire,  which  is  not  lacking 
in  character.  The  head-gear  is,  however,  the  striking 
point :  upon  the  hair,  which  is  tied  together  at  the  nape 
of  the  neck  with  a  knot  of  ribbon  resembling  a  great 
black  butterfly,  rests  a  straw  hat  in  the  shape  of  a  huge 
saucer  upside  down,  cut  out  in  the  top,  so  that  a  pitcher 
or  other  small  burden  can  be  balanced  thereon.  Most 
of  these  milk-women  are  young,  and  their  costume 
makes  nearly  all  of  them  good-looking.  They  carry 
their  milk-pans  in  an  original  position.  From  a  sort  of 
yoke  cut  out  to  fit  the  neck,  hollowed  on  the  under  side, 
so  as  to  take  in  the  shoulders  like  a  mould,  and  painted 
scarlet,  are  suspended  two  buckets  of  the  same  color, 
making  counterpoise  on  either  side  the  bearer,  who 
walks  between,  erect  and  alert.  There  is  no  better  or- 
thopedic training  than  the  carrying  of  lieavy  burdens 
in  this  fashion;  these  nnlk- women  would  be  distin- 
guished anywhere  for  their  ease  and  freedom,  and  the 
uprightness"^  with  which  they  carry  themselves. 

Walidng  on,  still  at  random,  I  came  to  the  maritime 
part  of  th"e  city,  where  canals  take  the  place  of  streets. 
As  yet  it  was  low  water,  and  vessels  lay  agn)iind  in  the 
nnid,  showing  their  hulls,  and  careening  over  in  a  way 


18  A  VnNTER  IK  RUSSIA. 

to  rejoice  a  water-color  painter.  Soon  the  tide  came 
np,  and  eveiything  began  to  be  in  motion.  I  w(,)nld 
Bnggest  Ilainburg  to  artists  following  in  the  track  of 
Canaletto,  Guardi,  or  Joyant ;  they  will  iind,  at  every 
step,  themes  as  pictnresque  and  more  new  than  those 
which  tliey  go  to  Venice  in  search  of. 

This  forest  of  salmon-colored  masts,  with  tlieir  maze 
of  cordg,ge  and  their  3'ellowish-brown  sails  drying  in 
the  sun,  these  tarred  sterns  with  apple-green  declrs, 
those  lateen-yards  threatening  the  windows  of  the 
neighboring  houses,  these  derricks  standing  under  plank 
roofs  shaped  like  pagodas,  these  tackles  lifting  hea^y 
packages  out  of  vessels  and  landing  them  in  houses, 
tliese  bridges  opening  to  give  passage  to  vessels,  these 
clum])s  of  trees,  these  gables  overtopped  here  and  tliei-e 
by  spires  and  belfries;  all  this  bathed  in  smoke,  trav- 
ersed by  sunlight  and  here  and  there  returning  a  glitter 
of  polished  metal,  tlie  far-off  distance  blue  and  misty, 
and  the  foreground  full  of  vigorous  color,  produced 
effects  of  the  most  brilliant  and  piquant  novelty.  A 
church-tower,  covered  with  plates  of  copper,  springing 
from  tliis  curious  medley  of  rigging  and  of  houses,  re- 
called to  me  by  its  odd  green  color  the  tower  of  Galata, 
at  Constantinople. 

I  will  note  at  random  a  fev/  characteristic  things : 
carts,  formed  of  a  plank  and  two  broad  wheels,  are 
driven  d  la  Dmimont,  when  they  have  two  horses. 
The  booted  driver  rides  one  of  his  animals,  instead 
of  walking  beside  the  team,  as  in  France.  When 
the  cart  has  but  a  single  horse,  the  driver  stands  up, 
American  fashion  ;  the  narrowness  of  the  street,  the 
necessity  of  waiting  till  the  bridges  which  had  been 
opened  for  the  passage  of  boats  are  re})laced,  occasion 
frequent  obstructions  from  which  the  phlegm  of  bipeds 
and  quadrupeds  takes  away  all  danger.  The  mail- 
carriers,  clad  in  red  overcoats  of  antique  cut,  amuse 
the  stranger  by  their  eccentric  appearance.  Red  iuxs 
become  so  rare  a  color  in  these  days ;  modern  civiliza- 


HAMBURO.  19 

tion  is  so  fond  of  neutral  tints,  making  it  an  ideal,  as 
it  seems,  to  render  the  painter's  trade  impossible  ! 

In  the  market  which  I  traversed,  green  vegetables 
and  green  fruits  predominated.  As  has  been  said, 
baked  apples  are  the  only  ripe  fruit  of  cold  countries! 
By  "way  of  compensation,  flowers  are  abundant;  wheel- 
barrows full,  baskets  full,  very  fresh,  brilliant,  and  fra- 
grant. Among  the  peasants  who  sell  these  various  ar- 
ticles, I  observed  some  in  round  jackets  and  knee- 
breeches.  The}^  come,  as  do  also  the  milk-women,  from 
one  of  the  islands  in  the  Elbe,  M'hose  inhabitants  inter- 
marry fi'ora  generation  to  generation,  and  carefully  pre- 
serve old  customs. 

Near  this  market  I  observed  a  flesh-colored  onmibus, 
which  makes  the  trip  between  Hamburg  and  Altona. 
Its  construction  differs  from  that  of  our  onmi buses. 
The  front  is  a  sort  of  coupe  with  a  glazed  curtain  which 
can  be  lowered  at  will,  protecting  travellers  from  rain 
or  wind  without  depi'iving  them  of  the  view ;  the  body 
of  the  vehicle,  pierced  with  windows,  is  occupied  by  two 
lateral  benches,  and  at  the  back  a  prolongation  of  the 
sides  and  of  the  imperial  prc^tects  the  conductor,  and 
gives  an  opportunity  to  get  out  or  in,  in  shelter.  "  These 
are  flue  things  to  observe,"  you  say  ;  "rather  tell  us  the 
annual  tonnage  of  the  port,  in  what  year  Hamburg  was 
founded,  what  is  its  population  ?  "  About  these  subjects 
I  know  absolutely  nothing,  and  you  can  find  them  in 
the  guide-book  ;  but  without  me,  you  would  never  have 
known  that,  in  this  good  llanse  town,  there  are  flesh- 
colored  omnibuses  ! 

Since  I  am  speaking  of  the  peculiarities  of  Ham- 
burg, I  will  not  forget  to  mention  that  on  some  shops 
you  see  the  following  inscription :  3Iu(jasi)i  de  galan- 
terie,  Grand  assortiment  da  delicatesses.  What !  I 
said,  my  curiosity  higldy  excited,  is  galhintry  an  article 
of  merchandise  in  liambui'g  ?  Can  delicacy  be  bought 
over  the  counter?  Is  it  sold  by  weight  or  by  measure, 
in  boxes  or  in  bottles  ?     It  must  be  a  very  mercantile 


20  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

mind  that  could  sell  articles  like  these.  More  careful 
observation  sliowed  me  that  these  "warehouses  of  gal- 
lantry "  were  shops  for  the  sale  of  fancy  articles,  and 
toys  to  adorn  an  etmjere ;  and  that  deli(;acy,  wlien  of- 
fered for  sale,  means  only  something  to  gratify  the 
palate. 

While  thus  exploring  the  streets,  an  idea  frequently 
occurred  to  me.  Eabelais  often  speaks  of  the  sausages 
and  the  smoked  beef  of  Hamburg,  which  he  praises  as 
marvellous  stimulants  to  the  a]:)petite,  and  I  expected 
to  see  them  heaped  up  in  mountains  in  the  shop-win- 
dows of  the  pork-butchers.  There  is  no  more  smoked 
beef  now  in  Hamburg  than  Brussels  cabbages  in  Brus- 
sels, Parmesan  cheese  in  Parma,  or  Ostend  oysters  at 
Ostend.  Possibly  they  might  be  found  at  Wilkins's, 
the  Yery  of  Hamburg,  where  you  may  inquire  for 
birds' -nests  soup,  mock  turtle  not  made  of  calf's  head, 
Indian  kari^  elephant's  feet  d  la  i^oulette,,  bear's  ham, 
bison's  hump,  sterlet  of  the  Yolga,  Chinese  ginger, 
conserves  of  roses,  and  other  cosmopolitan  dainties ! 
There  is  this  excellent  thing  about  a  seaport :  its  peo- 
ple are  surprised  at  nothing ;  it  is  the  place  which  ec- 
centricities should  select,  if  they  were  not  fond  of  fex- 
citing  attention. 

As  the  hour  advanced,  the  crowd  became  more 
numerous,  and  it  was  largely  composed  of  women.  Iii 
Hamburg  they  seem  to  enjoy  great  license.  Yery 
young  girls  come  and  go  alone  v.dthout  any  one's  notic- 
ing it,  and — a  remarkable  thing  ! — children  go  to  school 
by  themselves,  little  brisket  on  the  arm,  and  slate  in 
liand  ;  in  Paris,  left  to  their  own  free  will,  they  would 
nm  off  to  play  marbles,  tag,  or  hop-scotch. 

Dogs  are  muzzled  in  Hamburg  all  the  week,  but  on 
Sundays  they  are  left  at  liberty  to  bite  whom  they 
please.  They  are  taxed,  and  appear  to  be  esteemed ; 
but  the  cats  are  sad  and  unappreciated.  Recognizing 
in  me  a  friend,  they  cast  melancholy  glances  at  me, 
saying  in  their  feline  language,  to  which  long  use  has 


HAMBURG.  21 

given  me  the  Ivey :  "  These  Fliilistines,  busy  with  their 
money -o-ettiiic^,  despise  ns ;  and  yet  our  eyes  arc  as 
yellow  as  their  louis  cVor.  Stn])id  men  that  they  ai'e, 
they  believe  us  good  for  nothing-  but  to  catch  rats  ;  we, 
the  wise,  the  meditative,  the  independent,  who  have 
slept  n})on  the  pi-ophet's  sleeve,  and  lulled  his  ear  with 
the  whir  of  our  mysterious  wheel !  Pass  your  hand 
over  our  backs  full  of  electric  sparkles — we  allow  you 
this  liberty,  and  say  to  Charles  Baudelaire  that  he  must 
write  a  fine  sonnet,  deploring  our  woes." 


III. 

SCHLESWIG. 

THE  city  of  Altona,  to  wliicli  runs  tliat  flesli-colorcd 
omnil)us  that  I  have  before  mentioned,  begins  by 
an  immense  street  whose  broad  side-alleys  are  edged 
with  little  theatres  and  shows  of  divers  kinds,  suggest- 
ing the  Boulevard  du  Temple  in  Paris ;  a  somewhat 
droll  souvenir  on  the  frontier  of  the  states  of  Hamlet, 
Prince  of  Denmark  !  It  is  true,  however,  that  Hamlet 
himself  loved  players,  and  gave  them  advice  like  a 
journalist. 

At  the  end  of  the  sulmrb  of  Altona  stands  the  station 
of  the  railway  which  leads  to  Schleswig,  where  I  had 
business. 

Ihisiness  at  Schleswig!  Why  not?  What  is  iliere 
surprising  about  that?  I  had  promised,  if  I  should 
ever  pass  through  Denmark,  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  fair 
Danisli  chdtelctine.,  a  fiicnd  of  mine  ;  and  at  Schleswig 
I  was  to  obtain  the  necessary  directions  for  reaching 
L ,  distant  by  a  few  hours'  drive. 

Imafrine  me,  then,  seated  in  a  railwaj'-carriage  some- 
what at  a  venture,  having  had  much  trouble  in  making 
the  ticket-seller  understand  whitlier  I  desired  to  go, 
the  (rerman  at  this  point  behig  somewhat  complicated 
with  the  Danish.  Fortunately,  some  young  gentlemen 
whom  I  encountered  came  to  my  rescue  witli  a 
Teutonic  French  much  like  that  in  which  Balzac's 
Schmucke  and  his  Baron  de  ISTucingen  express  them- 
selves, but  which  was,  for  all  that,  most  delicious  music 
to  my  ears.  They  were  so  kind  as  to  play  the  part  of 
dragoman.  When  you  are  in  a  foreign  countr}', 
reduced  to  the  condition  of  a  deaf-mute,  you  caimot 


SCULESWIG.  23 

l)nt  cnrse  tlic  memory  of  liim  wlio  conceived  the  idea 
of  ])uildini^  the  tower  of  Babel,  and  by  his  pride 
bron<>-ht  about  the  confusion  of  tongues !  Seriously, 
at  the  present  day  when  the  human  race  circulate  like 
generous  blood  through  the  arterial,  venous,  and  capil- 
lary tubes  of  railways  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  a 
congress  of  nations  ought  to  assemble  and  decide  u]ion 
a  common-  speech — French  or  English — wliich  sliould 
be,  like  Latin  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  universal  human 
language;  all  schools  and  colleges  should  be  recpii rod 
to  teach  it,  each  nation  of  course  at  the  same  time 
retaining  its  own  native  and  peculiar  tongue.  But  I 
leave  this  dream,  which  will  be  accomplished,  I  doubt 
not,  at  some  not  far  remote  future  by  some  method 
which  necessity  alone  can  devise,  and,  meantime, 
cannot  but  felicitate  myself  that  our  own  noble  lan- 
guage is  spoken,  at  least  in  some  fasliion,  by  every  man, 
all  tiie  woi-ld  over,  who  prides  himself  on  being  well- 
bred  and  well-informed. 

Darkness  comes  on  early,  in  these  short  autumn 
days,  shorter  here  than  in  Paris  even,  and  the  level 
landscape  soon  disappeared  in  that  vague  darkness 
which  changes  the  form  and  character  of  all  objects. 
I  should  lia\e  done  well  to  fall  asleep,  but  I  am  a  most 
conscientious  traveller,  and  from  time  to  time  I  ])ut  out 
my  head,  striving  to  see  something  in  the  gray  light  of 
the  rising  moon.  Fatal  imprudence !  My  cap  was 
not  secured,  and  the  fresh  wind,  increased  by  tlie  rapid 
motion  of  the  train,  which  was  going  at  frdl  speed, 
took  it  off  with  all  the  dexterity  of  x\. ijrestid'ui'dat&ur  ! 
For  one  moment  I  saw  its  black  disk  whirl  in  the  air, 
like  a  star  hurled  from  its  or])it ;  a  second  later,  and  it 
was  but  a  point  in  space,  and  I  remained  bareheaded 
and  forlorn. 

A  young  man  who  sat  opposite  nic  began  to  laugh 
quietly,  then  resuming  his  gi-avity,  ho  opened  his 
travelling-bag  and  drew  out  a  student's  cap  which  he 
begged  me  to  accept.     It  was  not  a  time  to  stand  ou 


24:  4  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ceremony ;  it  was  impossible  to  stop  tlie  train  in  order 
to  procure  other  head-gear,  nor  indeed  did  the  land- 
scape have  the  appearance  of  being  enamelled  with 
hat-shops.  Thanking  the  obliging  traveller  as  best  I 
could,  I  perched  npon  my  cranium  the  minute  cap, — 
taking  good  care,  this  time,  to  make  sure  of  the  strap — 
which  gave  me  the  air  of  a  "  mossy-head  "  of  Heidel- 
berg or  Jena,  well-advanced  in  the  thirties,  to  say  the 
least.  This  tragi-comic  incident  was  the  only  one 
which  signalized  my  journey,  and  from  it  I  augured 
well  of  the  hospitality  of  the  country. 

At  Schleswig,  the  railway,  which  is  to  be  carried  fur- 
ther, goes  a  few  rods  beyond  the  station,  and  stops  short 
in  a  field — like  the  last  line  of  an  abruptly  interrupted 
letter !     The  effect  of  this  is  singular. 

An  omnibus  took  possession  of  myself  and  my  trunks, 
and,  with  the  feeling  that  it  must  of  necessity  take  me 
somewhere,  I  confidingly  allowed  myself  to  be  stov\"ed 
in  and  carried  away.  The  intelligent  omnibus  set  me 
down  before  the  best  hotel  in  the  town,  and  there,  as 
circumnavigators  say  in  their  journals,  "  I  held  a  parley 
with  the  natives."  Among  them  was  a  waiter  who 
spoke  French  in  a  way  that  was  transparent  enough  to 
give  me  an  occasional  glimpse  of  his  meaning  ;  and  who 
— a  much  rarer  thing ! — even  sometimes  understood 
what  I  said  to  him. 

My  name  upon  the  hotel  register  was  a  ray  of  light. 
The  hostess  had  been  notified  of  my  expected  arrival, 
and  I  was  to  be  sent  for  as  soon  as -my  appearance 
should  be  announced ;  but  it  was  now  late  in  the  eve- 
ning, and  I  thought  it  better  to  wait  till  the  next  day. 
There  was  served  for  supper  a  chaucl-froid  of  partridge 
— without  Sucre  candi  or  confiture — and  I  lay  down 
upon  the  sofa,  hopeless  of  being  able  to  sleep  betvvcen 
the  two  down-cushions  which  compose  the  German  and 
the  Danish  bed. 

The  messenger,  sent  off  upon  my  arrival,  did  not  re- 
turn till  late  the  next  day,  the  distance  being  twenty- 


SGHLESWIO.  25 

seven  miles  from  Schleswig  to  L ;  tliat  is,  fifty-four 

miles  going  and  returning.  lie  brought  contradictory 
tidings:  the  lady  of  the  house  was  at  Kiel,  or  Ecken- 
focrde ;  possibly  at  Hamburg, — if  not  in  England.  It  is 
Fad  to  pay  a  visit  in  Denmark,  and  to  leave  a  card  with 
the  corner  turned  dov;n,  saying  :  "  I  shall  not  come  this 
way  again." 

A  triple  telegraphic  message  was  despatched  to  the 
tliree  places  designated,  and  while  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer, 1  explored  Schlesv^-ig,  which  is  a  city  quite  peculiar 
in  its  appearance.  Oue  wide  street  runs  the  length  of 
the  town,  with  wliicli  narrow  cross-streets  are  connected, 
like  the  smaller  bones  with  the  dorsal  vertebi-a  of  a 
fish.  There  are  the  handsome  modern  houses,  which, 
as  usual,  have  not  the  slightest  character.  But  the 
more  modest  dwellings  have  a  local  stamp ;  they  are 
one-story  buildings,  very  \o\y — not  over  seven  or  eight 
feet  in  height — capped  with  a  huge  roof  of  fluted  red 
tiles.  "Windows,  broader  than  they  are  high,  occupy 
the  whole  of  the  front ;  and  behind  these  windows, 
s[)read  luxuriantly  in  porcelain  or  faience  or  earthen 
flov/er-pots,  plants  of  every  description :  geraniums, 
verbenas,  fuchsias, — and  this  absolutely  without  excep- 
tion. The  poorest  house  is  as  well  adorned  as  the  best. 
Sheltered  by  these  perfumed  window-blinds,  tlie  women 
sit  at  work,  knitting  or  sewing,  and,  out  of  the  corner 
of  their  eye,  the}'  watch,  in  the  little  movable  mirror 
which  reflects  the  streets,  the.  rare  passer-by,  wdiose 
boots  resound  upon  the  pavement.  The  cultivation  of 
flowers  seems  to  be  a  passion  in  the  north;,  countries 
where  they  grow  naturally  make  but  little  account  of 
them  in  comparison. 

The  church  in  Schleswig  had  in  store  for  me  a  sur- 
]u-ise.  Protestant  churches  in  general,  arc  not  very 
interesting  from  an  artistic  point  of  view,  unless  the 
reformed  faith  may  have  installed  itself  in  some  Catho- 
lic sanctuary  diverted  from  its  primitive  designation. 
You  And,  usually,  only  whitewashed  naves,  walls  desti- 
3 


26  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

tnte  of  painting  or  bas-relief,  and  rows  of  oaken  benclies 
well-polished  and  shining.  It  is  neat  and  comfortable, 
but  it  is  not  beautiful.  The  clmrcli  at  Schleswig  con- 
tains, by  a  grand,  nnknown  artist,  an  altar-piece  in  three 
parts,  of  carved  wood,  representing  in  a  series  of  bas- 
reliefs,  separated  by  fine  architectural  designs,  the  most 
important  scenes  in  tlie  drama  of  the  Passion. 

This  artist,  worthy  of  being  mentioned  with  Michel 
Columbo,  Peter  Vischer,  Montanez,  Verbrnggen,  and 
other  masters  of  the  chisel,  is  named  Bruggemann, — a 
name  not  often  spoken,  but  which  ought  to  be  famous. 
Py  the  way,  have  you  observed  how  commonly  it  hap- 
pens that  sculptors 'of  equal  or  even  superior  talent  are 
often  less  known  than  painters  ?  Their  works,  in  heavy 
material,  and  connected  with  the  bnildiug  in  which  they 
stand,  are  not  moved  from  place  to  place,  are  seldom 
bought  and  sold,  and  their  serene  beauty,  destitute  of 
the  charm  of  color,  fails  to  attract  the  notice  of  the 
crowd. 

Aronnd  the  chui'ch  stand  sepulchral  chapels  of  fine 
funereal  fancy  and  excellent  decorative  effect.  A 
vaulted  hall  contains  the  tombs  of  the  ancient  Dukes  of 
Schleswig ;  massive  slabs  of  stone,  blazoned  with  ar- 
morial devices,  covered  with  inscriptions  which  are  not 
lacking  in  character. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  Schleswig  are  great  saline 
ponds,  communicating  with  the  sea.  I  paced  the 
high-road,  remarking  the  play  of  light  npon  this  gray- 
ish water,  and  the  surface  crisped  by  the  wind ;  occa- 
sionally I  extended  my  walk  as  far  as  the  cliateaii 
metamorphosed  into  a  barrack,  and  the  public  garden,  a 
miniature  St.  Cloud,  with  its  cascade,  its  dolphins,  and 
its  other  aquatic  monsters  all  standing  idle.  A  very 
good  sinecure  is  that  of  a  Triton  in  a  Louis  Quinze 
basin  !  I  should  ask  nothing  better  myself.  Growiug 
tired  of  waiting  for  an  answer  that  delayed  its  coining, 
and  having  exhausted  all  the  amusements  of  Schleswig, 
I  order  a  post-chaise,  and  set  off  for  L .   - 


scniEswio.  27 

We  drove  for  some  distaiice  alons:  a  road  boi-dored 
by  mountain-ashes,  whose  l)right  red  berries  rejoiced  the 
eye  with  those  c^lowing  tints  whicli  sometimes  burn  in 
the  sunset;  on  either  side  were  ponds  or  lai>-oons  of  con- 
siderable size.  Notliino;  coukl  be  more  pleasing  than 
this  avenue  of  trees  with  their  crimson  umbels;  a  coral 
avenue,  you  might  say,  leading  to  some  Undine's  mad- 
repore chateau. 

To  the  ash-trees  succeeded  pines  and  birches,  and  we 
arrived  at  the  postdiouse,  where  the  horses  were  fed, 
while,  in  the  meantime,  I  took  a  mug  of  beer,  and  smoked 
a  cigar  in  a  low  room  with  broad  windows,  where  ser- 
vant-women stood  up  in  front  of  postilions  who  were 
pnffing  at  their  porcelain  pipes,  in  attitudes  and  with 
effects  of  light  and  shade"  to  inspire  Ostade  or  Meisso- 
nier. 

Twilight  had  now  come  on,  and  presently  night,  if  a 
magniiicent  moonlight  can  so  be  called  ;  the  road — 
longer  than  I  had  supposed — was  lengthened  still  more 
by  ray  impatience  to  arrive;  while  the  horses  continued 
their  peaceful  little  trot,  amicably  caressed  upon  the 
croup  by  a  phlegmatic  postilion. 

At  each  group  of  houses,  whose  lights  shone  out  like 
eyes  through  openings  in  the  trees,  1  leaned  forward  to 
see  if  I  were  drawing  near  my  place  of  destination,  for 
I  had  a  vignette  of  the  chateau,  engraved  upon  a  card  ; 
but  the  limit  of  my  journe}^  seemed  to  recede  before 
me,  and  the  postilion,  who  had  the  air  of  being  himself 
a  little  doubtful  about  his  route,  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  the  |)easants  whom  he  met,  or  Vvho  came  to  their 
dooi'S,  attracted  by  the  sound  of  wheels. 

However,  the  road  was  superb,  now  overshadowed 
by  great  trees,  still  in  full  leafage,  now  bordered  by 
hedges  through  which  the  niooir  sifted  its  thousands  of 
silver  arrows,  and  whose  shadow  outlined  upon  the  sand 
the  oddest  chequer-work.  Where  the  foliage  opened 
and  showed  the  sky,  there  stood  Douati's  comet,  flaming, 
dishevelled,  the  stars  entangled  in  its  golden  hair.    I 


28  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

had  seen  it  at  Paris  a  few  days  earlier,  but  so  feeble, 
vagne,  uncertain !  In  a  week  it  bad  gained  in  a  man- 
ner that  would  have  filled  with  wild  terror  an  age  more 
superstitious  than  our  own. 

In  this  vague,  bluish  light,  cut  by  deep  shadows  which 
the  horses  did  not  enter  without  a  shiver,  everything 
took  a  strange  and  fantastic  appearance.  The  road  went 
up  hill  and  down,  following  the  undulations  of  the 
ground ;  hedges  or  trees  concealed  the  horizon,  and  I 
lost  my  bearings  completely.  Oiuia  I  felt  sure  I  was  at 
the  end  of  my  journey.  A  beautiful  house,  silvered  by 
the  moonlight,  stood  ont  clear  against  a  background  of 
sombre  verdure,  casting  a  trembling  shadow  in  an  or- 
namental piece  of  water.  "It  answered  well  to  the  de- 
scription of  my  friend's  chateau  ;  but  the  postilion  drove 

Soon  after  this,  the  carriage  entered  an  avenue  lined 
with  trees  which  were  surely  the  growth  of  centuries. 
At  the  left  there  was  a  shimmer  of  water,  and  the  out- 
lines of  large  buildings  could  be  discerned  through  the 
branches,  but  I  saw  nothing  clearly.  Suddenly  the 
post-chaise  turned,  and  its  wheels  resounded  upon  a 
bridge  crossing  a  broad  moat.  At  tlie  end  of  this 
bridge  was  a  sort  of  bastion  with  a  low  archway  which 
only  lacked  a  portcullis;  passing  through,  v\^e  found 
ourselves  in  a  circular  court  like  the  interior  of  a  don- 
jon, and  anotlier  archway  yawned  black  before  us. 

All  this,  seen  by  moonlight  and  flooded  with  shadows, 
had  a  feudal  and  mediaeval  air,  the  look  of  a  fortress, 
which  disturi)ed  me  a  little.  Had  my  postilion,  per- 
chance, made  some  mistake,  and  brought  me  into  the 
demesne  of  Harold  Ilarfagar,  or  Biorn  of  the  Sparkling 
Eyes  ?  The  thing  grew  legendarj^  and  dream-like.  Fin- 
all}'-  we  came  out  into  an  immense  open  space,  bounded 
on  one  side  by  large  buildings  forming  an  elongated 
semi-circle  ;  in  the  darkness  it  was  impossible  to  decide 
what  tliey  might  be,  but  their  appearance  was  certainly 
formidable. 


SCULESWIG.  29 

TliG  cliord  of  this  arc,  wliicli  seemed  to  represent  the 
hollow  of  a  curved  fortilication,  was  formed  by  the 
manor-house  itself,  whose  imposing  mass,  standing  en- 
tirely isolated,  emerged  fi'om  a  sort  of  lagoon,  with  its 
crenellated  roof  and  its  high  fa9ade,  which  the  moon 
frosted  with  a  bluish  light,  making  here  and  there  some 
window-pane  glitter  like  the  scales  of  a  fish. 

It  was  not  yet  late,  but  all  in  the  chateau  seemed 
sleejDing.  It  was  a  fairy  palace,  you  M^ould  have  said, 
lying  under  some  spell,  at  which  arrives  the  prince,  who 
is  destined  to  break  the  charm. 

The  postilion  stopped  his  hoi'ses  before  a  bridge 
which  must  have  been  a  drawbridge  in  other  days, 
and  then  lights  appeared  at  the  windows ;  the  door 
opened,  servants  came  out  to  the  carriage,  said  a  few 
words  in  German,  and  took  off  my  luggage,  looking  at 
me,  meantime,  with  surprise  and  some  distrust.  It  was 
impossible  for  me  to  cpiestion  them,  and  I  was  by  no 
means  certain  that  I  was  really  at  L . 

The  bridge  traversed  a  second  moat  filled  with  water, 
whose  surface  was  scratched  by  a  few  lines  of  silver, 
then  ended  at  a  portico  flanked  by  two  granite  columns 
and  giving  access  to  a  great  vestibule  with  black  and 
white  marble  floor,  and  with  oaken  panelling  and  -pi- 
lasters wi ill  gilded  capitals.  Stags'  horns  were  suspended 
from  the  walls,  and  a  couple  of  small  cannon,  of  polished 
copper,  pointed  their  muzzles  at  me.  This  looked 
scarcely  hosjntable — cannon  in  a  nineteenth-century  ves- 
tibule !  I  was  conducted  into  a  drawing-room  furnished 
.  in  modern  style  and  with  the  utmost  elegance. 

Among  the  paintings  which  adorned  the  walls,  was  a 
picture,  the  work  of  a  distinguished  artist,  representing 
the  fair  cJidtdaiiie  in  oriental  costume.  I  recognized  it 
at  once ;  I  had  made  no  mistake  in  the  house.  A  young 
governess  who  came  down  to  receive  me,  addressed  me 
in  unknown  tongues,  and  seemed  quite  alarmed  at  this 
nocturnal  invasion.  I  pointed  to  the  portrait  and  men- 
tioned the  name,  and  c-ave  her   the   viifuette  of  the 


30  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

chateau.  At  this,  all  distrust  vanisliecl,  and  a  charming 
little  girl,  perhaps  ten  years  old,  wlio  till  then  had  stood 
remote  examining  me  with  the  dark,  deep  eye  of  child- 
hood, came  np  to  me  and  said  :  "  I  nnderstand  French." 
My  difficnlties  were  at  an  end.  Tlie  mistress  of  the 
house,  absent  for  two  days,  would  return  on  the  mor- 
row, and  had  given  orders  accordingly. 

Supper  was  served  for  me,  and  1  was  conducted  to 
my  room,  np  a  majestic  staircase  as  large  as  a  whole 
Parisian  house.  The  house-maid  placed  on  the  table  two 
candlesticks  bearing  candles  enormously  long,  after  the 
German  fashion  ;  and  withdrew. 

This  room,  one  of  a  suite  of  three  or  four,  was 
somewhat  fantastic  in  appearance :  over  the  mantel-piece, 
loves,  illuminated  by  a  reddish  light,  and  greatly  resem- 
bling imps,  w^ere  warming  themselves  aroinid  a  brazier, 
supposed  to  be  an  allegorical  representation  of  winter  ; 
through  the  windows,  notwithstanding  the  candlelight, 
the  moon  poured  in  its  wan  radiance,  which  stretched 
in  a  ghostly  way  across  the  flooi-. 

Moved  by  the  same  impulse  which  led  Mrs.  liadcliffe's 
heroines  to  wander,  lamp  in  hand,  down  the  corridors 
of  ghost-hannted  chateaus,  I  made  a  reconnoissance,  be- 
fore going  to  bed,  into  the  region  round  about  my  room. 

The  last  room  of  the  suite,  a  kind  of  small  salon, 
adorned  with  a  mirror,  and  furnished  with  a  sofa  and 
arm-chairs,  offered  not  a  corner  suitable  to  lodge  phan- 
toms. Engravings  of  Esmeralda  and"  the  Goat  were  re- 
assuring by  their  modern  air. 

The  room  preceding  my  own,  occasioned  more  anx- 
iety. Old,  dingy  tapestry  adorned  the  walls,  repre- 
senting formidable  watch-dogs  held  in  leash  by  negroes. 
Each  animal's  name  was  written  lieside  him,  as  in  the 
dog-portraits  of  Godefroy  Jadin.  All  these  dogs  seemed, 
in  the  flickering  candlelight,  to  wag  their  tails  more 
and  more  furiously,  to  open  and  shut  their  ivory-toothed 
jaws  in  a  mute  bark,  and  to  strain  violently  against 
their  collars  in  the  effort  to  spring   upon   me.      The 


8CHLESWI0.  31 

negroes  rolled  tlic  whites  of  their  eves,  and  one  dog, 
named  Hagbid,  looked  at  mc  with  special  dis])leasure. 

The  rooms  were  enclosed  l)y  a  corridor  which  turned 
back  upon  itself,  one  of  its  walls  going  off  to  form  a 
gallery,  and  disappearing  beneath  portraits  of  ancestors 
and  historic  personages.  These  were  men  of  fierce  as- 
pect, with  folio  [)e!nkcs,  with  steel  cuirasses  starred 
with  golden  nails  and  traversed  by  the  broad  ribljon  of 
some  ivuightly  order,  the  hand  resting  on  the  command- 
er's bdto)i^  like  tlie  stone  statue  in  Don  Juan,  each  hav- 
ing his  helmet  on  a  cushion  at  his  side.  Also  high  and 
puissant  ladies  in  costumes  of  different  leigus,  display- 
ing their  faded  charms  and  graces  long  gone  by,  from 
the  de[)th  of  their  frames.  There  were  dowagers,  im- 
posing and  craljbed,  and  powdered  young  women  in 
grand  court  dress  with  tight-laced  corset  and  enormous 
panier,  spreading  out  their  ample  skirts  of  pink  or  sal- 
mon-colored danuisk  flowered  with  silver,  and  indicating 
with  a  careless  finger  the  coronet  of  precious  stones 
lying  upon  the  velvet-covered  console. 

These  noble  personages,  rendered  pale  and  wan  by 
time,  presented  an  alarmingly  spectral  appearance;  in 
t\\(i  coloring,  certain  tints  had  resisted  the  years  better 
than  others,  and  the  disproportionate  fading  produced 
the  oddest  effects.  One  young  countess,  otherwise  very 
lovely,  had  retained,  in  her  bloodless  pallor,  lips  of  the 
most  brilliant  carmine,  and  blue  eyes  of  unaltered  azure ; 
the  moutli  and  the  eyes  thus  living  made  a  contrast  not 
at  all  reassuring  with  her  pallor  as  of  the  dead.  It 
seemed  as  if  somebody  were  looking  at  you  through  the 
can\'as  as  through  a  mask. 

The  portraits,  as  numei-ous  as  those  shown  by  Ruy 
Gomez  da  Silva  to  Charles  V.  in  Hernani,  extended  as 
far  as  the  angle  of  the  corridor. 

Having  arrived  there,  not  without  experiencing  that 
faint  shudder,  which  is  caused  even  to  the  l>ravest,  in  a 
sombre,  unknown,  and  silent  place,  by  the  image  of  those 
who  once  lived,  aud  whose  form  thus  pictured  has  long 


32  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

since  fallen  to  dnst,  I  hesitated,  observing  that  tliis  (or- 
ridor  stretched  away  indefinitely,  full  of  mystery  and 
shadow.  The  light  from  my  candle  failed  to  ])enetrate 
to  the  end  of  it,  and  pi-ojected  npon  the  wall  my  own 
grimacing  silhouette,  which  ever  followed  like  a  black 
servant  parodying  with  lugubrious  buifoonery  every  gest- 
ure and  movement  which  I  made. 

Not  willing  to  seem  a  coward  in  my  own  eyes,  I  con- 
tinued my  walk.  About  half-way  down  the  corridor,  in  a 
place  where  a  projection  in  the  wall  appeared  to  indi- 
cate a  chimney,  a  grated  air-hole  attracted  my  attention. 
Approaching  my  light  to  the  aperture,  I  distinguished  a 
circular  staircase,  plunging  into  the  depths  of  the  build- 
ing and  leading  upwai"ds,"lleaven  knows  whither.  The 
coTor  of  the  plaster  around  this  grating  indicated  that 
the  opening  had  been  made  long  after  the  construction 
of  the  staircase, — doubtless  when  the  secret  of  it  was 
discovered. 

Decidedly,  this  chateau  of  L was  full  of  myste- 

terious  mechanism,  like  a  stage-scene  of  Angela,  Tyrant 
of  Padua,  and,  by  night,  one  might  hear  "  footsteps  in 
tlie  walls  "  ! 

The  corridor  ended  at  a  door,  carefully  fastened, 
more  recent  than  the  rest  of  the  building ;  had  I  knov/n 
the  secret  of  the  chamber  thus  condemned,  I  surely 
should  have  had  bad  dreams.  Happily  I  remained  in 
ignorance  ;  however,  it  was  not  without  a  faint  feeling 
of  relief  that  I  saw  in  the  morning  the  pure  light  of  day 
fiHer  through  the  window-shades. 

Nocturnal  phantasmagoria  being  put  to  flight,  the  feudal 
manor  showed  itself  simply  an  old  chateau  modernized. 
It  was  the  ghost  oi:  the  ancient  building  that  I  had  seen  in 
tlie  moonlight  the  preceding  evening,  and  the  effect  was 
not  entii-ely  an  illusion.  In  this  colony  of  fortresses  the 
pacific  life  of  our  day  had  taken  up  its  abode  without  de- 
stroying the  principal  outlines,  and  through  the  darkness 
my  error  was  not  unnatural.  Tlie  semi-circle  of  tall  build- 
ings, worthy  of   being  the  residence  of  a   prince,  must 


SGIILESWIO.  33 

have  ])Geii  casemates  before  tliey  became  stables  and  ser- 
vants' quarters ;  the  eiitrauce,  with  its  two  low  archways, 
its  drawbrid^i^e  changed  to  a  brid_£^e,  and  its  bi'oad  moat, 
seemed  capable  even  yet  of  resisting  an  assault.  Above 
the  lirst  ai-ch  a  bas-relief,  blurred  by  time,  shcnved 
faintly  a  Christ  on  the  Cross  surrounded  by  holy  women, 
pi-otecting  two  rows  of  stone  blazons,  set  into  the  thick 
brick  wall. 

The  chatean,  surrounded  by  water  on  all  sides,  raised 
its  red  walls  crowned  with  a  roof  of  pui-ple  tiles  and 
pierced  with  windows  of  suitable  proportions,  from  a 
foundation  of  bluish-gray  granite.  On  the  opposite  side 
of  the  building,  the  two  moats  are  crossed  by  bridges, 
the  house  being  completely  encircled  by  these  canals. 

Beyond  was  the  garden.  Great  trees,  in  vigorous  old 
age,  still  keeping  all  their  leaves,  although  it  was  already 
a'utunm,  and  artistically  grouped,  formed,  so  to  speak, 
the  green-room  to  this  magniiicent  stage-scene.  An  im- 
mense lawn,  green  as  English  turf,  relieved  by  clumps 
of  geraniums,  fuchsias,  dahlias,  verbenas,  chrysanthe- 
mums, Bengal  roses,  and  other  late  flowers,  stretched  in 
velvety  expanse  as  far  as  a  hedge  of  yoke-elms,  throngh 
which  opened  a  long  avenue  of 'lindens,  ending  at  a  shal- 
low fosse  surrounding  the  park  and  giving  an  outlook 
into  extensive  pasture-lands  dotted  with  cattle. 

A  ball  of  burnished  metal,  placed  on  a  truncated  col- 
umn, gave  a  summary  of  this  prospect,  adding  a  tint 
of  green  tinsel.  It  is  a  German  fashion,  for  which  the 
taste  of  the  chatelaine  must  not  be  held  responsible.  A 
similar  ball  stands  in  the  court-yard  of  the  Castle  of 
Heidelberg, 

At  the  right,  a  rustic  pavilion,  festooned  with  clematis 
and  aristolochia,  |)rescnts  its  sofas  and  arm-chaii-s  inade 
of  knotty  or  curiously  mis-shapen  branches,  and  a  suite  of 
hothouses  lift  their  glass  roofs  to  the  mild  noonday  sun. 
These  greenhouses,  of  different  temperatures,  open  into 
one  another.  In  one,  orange  trees,  lemons,  cedrats,  all 
laden  with  fruit  in  different' degrees  of  maturity,  seemed 


34  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

to  feel  themselves  in  their  native  climate,  and.  not,  like 
the  delicate  Mignon,  to  regret 

'*  Da»s  Laud,  wo  die  Citronen  bluhn"  ; 

in  another,  cacti  bristled  with  countless  spines,  bananas 
spread  their  broad,  silky  leaves,  and  orchidaceous  plants 
balanced  their  frail  festoons.  A  third  contained  tree-ca- 
mellias, theii-  shining  foliage  starred  with  buds;  another 
was  reserved  for  rare  and  delicate  plants  arranged  upon  a 
staging ;  cages,  painted,  gilded,  and  ornamented  with 
cohered  glass,  hung  from  the  ceilings,  filled  with  birds, 
who,  deceived  by  the  warmth,  caroled  and  sang  as  in  the 
spring-time.  The  last  building,  decorated  with  painted 
trellises,  served  as  a  gymnasium  for  the  children  of  the 
family. 

Behind  the  greenhouses,  a  bit  of  rock -work  tapestried 
wuth  climbing  plants  simulated  a  kind  of  fountain  whose 
basin  was  formed  by  a  monstrous  shell.  What  could  have 
been  the  mollusk,  the  primitive  inhabitant  of  this  conch, 
capable  of  bearing  Aphrodite  upon  the  waves ! 

Somewhat  farther  on  peaches,  quite  well  crimsoned, 
rounded  their  velvet  cheeks  upon  branches  trained  upon 
espaliers;  and  chasselas  grapes,  whose  stocks  only  were 
exposed  to  the  out-door  air,  were  maturing  behind  glass 
attaclied  to  the  walls. 

A  fir-wood  extended  its  sombre  verdure  along  the 
garden's  edge,  united  with  it  by  a  light  foot-bridge  which 
crossed  a  deep  trench  half  full  of  w^ater.  Come  what 
miglit,  I  must  explore  that  region.  As  is  well  known, 
the  lower  branches  of  the  fir  wither,  as  the  tree  grows 
larger  and  pushes  its  green  spire  skywards.  All  the 
lower  part  of  these  woods  resembled  a  landscape  pre- 
pared in  bitumen,  where  the  artist  has  been  interrupted 
before  having  had  time  to  put  in  touches  of  green,  liere 
and  there,  the  sun  flung  a  handful  of  his  golden  ducats 
into  this  warm  russet  darkness;  they  caught  and  re- 
l)ounded  among  the  trees,  and  at  last  lay  scattered  over 
the  brown  earth,  bare  as  the  floor  of  fir- wood  always  is. 


scnLEswia.  35 

A  pleasant  aromatic  odor  escaped  from  the  trees,  wliicli 
were  aii;itated  hy  a  soft  wind,  and  the  forest  gave  forth 
a  vague  niurniui-,  like  the  sigh  from  a  human  breast. 

A  path  led  tlirough  to  the  other  side  of  the  wood, 
wliicli  was  separated  by  a  trench  from  the  open  ground, 
where  cattle  and  horses  were  feeding.  I  returned  upon 
my  steps,  and  re-entered  the  chateau. 

Some  time  after,  the  little  girl  who  spoke  French  ran 
np  to  tell  me  her  motlier  had  come.  I  related  to  my  fair 
hostess  my  nocturnal  invasion  of  her  manor,  and  ex- 
pressed my  regret  that  I  Jiad  not  had  a  dwarf  to  sound 
the  bugle  beneath  her  donjon  tower ;  she  begged  to 
know  if  I  had  slept  well,  despite  my  surroundings,  and 
whether  "  the  lady  who  died  of  hunger  "  had  appeared  to 
me  in  dream, — or  in  reality. 

"  Every  chateau  iias  its  legend,"  she  said,  "  especially 
if  it  is  ancient.  You  no  doubt  observed  the  mysterious 
staircase  that  might  be  taken  for  a  chimney.  It  leads 
np  to  a  room  that  is  not  visible  externally,  and  it  goes 
down  into  the  cellars.     In  this  room  one  of  the  lords  of 

L concealed  from  the  eyes  of  all,  especially  from  his 

wife,  a  mistress,  charming  and  devoted,  who  accepted 
this  absolute  seclusion  that  she  might  live  under  the 
same  roof  with  the  man  v\'liora  she  loved.  Every  even- 
ing the  master  ot"  the  house  had  a  supper  prepared  for 
liim  which  he  brought  up  himself  from  the  kitchens  un- 
derground to  the  captive's  room.  One  day,  drawn  away 
from  the  chateau  upon  some  expedition,  he  lost  his  life  ; 
'and  the  lady,  no  longer  receiving  her  food,  died  of  hun- 
ger. Long  after,  repairs  and  alterations  brought  to  light 
the  secret  door  of  the  cellar,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  staii*- 
case  was  found  a  woman's  skeleton,  seated  in  an  attitude 
ot  despair  amid  fragments  of  rich  materials  ;  they  in- 
vestigated further,  and  came  upon  the  sumptuously  fur- 
nished chamber  which  had  become  to  the  helpless  woman 
a  Hunger  Tower,  more  fearful  than '  LTgolino's  prison, 
since  he,  at  least,  had  his  four  sons  to  eat !  At  times, 
her  ghost  walks  by  night  in  the  corridors,  and  if  she 


36  -^  WINTEB  IN  RUSSIA. 

meets  a  stranger,  she  seems  to  implore  food  v\dtli  tlie 
gestures  of  one  famishing.  To-night  you  shall  have  a 
less  Ingiibrious  apartment." 

Guided  by  my  hostess,  I  visited  the  state  apartments 
of  the  chateau,  which  were  decorated  in  the  style  of  the 
last  century ;  in  the  dining-hall,  massive  antique  silver- 
ware and  services  of  Dresden  china  glittered  behind  the 
glass  doors  of  curiously  carved  buffets.  The  immense 
drawing-room,  with  five  windows  on  the  front,  showed 
royal  portraits  upon  its  pauels  of  gold  and  white,  and 
from  the  ceilings  hung  chandeliers  of  rock-crystal  with 
transparent  branches  and  foliage  cut  in  open  work.  A 
smaller  saZooi,  hung  with  green  damask,  offered  to  the 
eye  nothing  of  special  interest  save  a  portrait  of  a  knight 
in  armor,  with  a  scarf  floating  over  his  shoulder,  and  on 
his  breast  the  orders  of  the  Elephant  and  of  Danneborg. 
This  gentleman  wore  a  gracious  smile,  suggestive  of  Ver- 
sailles, but  by  some  inadvertence  of  the  artist,  his  back 
was  turned  to  his  pendant,  a  lady  in  powder  and  in 
grand  court-dress  of  apple-green,  shot  with  silver  ;  a  mis- 
take which  seemed  much  to  annoy  him,  for  he  was  do 
ing  his  best  to  look  at  her  from  over  his  shoulder.  The 
lady  would  have  been  extremely  beautiful  but  for  a  nose 
of  curve  too  aristocratic,  descending  over  her  mouth  like 
a  paroquet  who  is  going  to  eat  a  cherry.  Her  sweet, 
sad  eyes  seemed  to  deplore  this  nose,  a  caricatui'e  of 
the  Bourbon  feature,  which  spoiled  a  charming  face, 
notwithstanding  the  artist's  efforts  to  attenuate  it. 
■  Wliile  I  was  looking  attentively  at  this  singular  face, — 
agreeable,  and  yet,  for  all  its  grand  air,  ridiculous, — the 
mistress  of  the  house  said  to  me  :  "  There  is  a  legend, 
also,  about  this  ])icture ;  but  don't  be  alarmed,  it  is 
nothing  terrible.  If  any  one  sneezes  while  passing  be- 
fore the  long-nosed  countess,  she  responds  with  a  nod,  or 
a  'God  bless  you,'  like  portraits  in  the  melodramas. 
Take  care  to  avoid  colds  in  the  head,  and  the  painting 
will  give  no  sign  of  life  !  " 

The  sleeping-rooms  contained  beds  covered  with  dam- 


scnLEswio.  37 

ask  or  tapestry,  standiiii?,  the  head  against  the  wall,  so 
as  to  make  a  lane  on  either  side.  The  hangings  of  one 
of  them,  in  a(!cordance  with  an  old  fashion,  consisted  of 
great  paintings  in  distemper,  executed,  on  canvas,  and 
set  in  panels,  representing  pastoral  scenes,  in  which  the 
Teutonic  artist  had  essayed  to  imitate  the  fanciful  style 
of  Boucher, — an  attempt  rcsulting  in  aV,'kwardly  affected, 
postures  and  grotesque  coloring.  "Will  you  have  this 
room  ? "  I  was  asked.  "  This  rococo  will  be  an  excel- 
lent antidote  to  nocturnal  terrors."  But  I  declined  ;  it  is 
not  agreeable  to  see  around  j^on  in  the  silence  and  soli- 
tude,"by  the  faint  light  of  a  lamp  or  a  candle,  these  fig- 
ures \vl"iich  seem  to  try  to  (!ome  down  from  the  wall,  and 
beg  from  you  the  soul  which  the  painter  has  neglected 
to  give  them  !  My  choice  rested  on  a  pretty  room  with 
Persian  hangings  and  a  little  modern  bed,  situated  at 
the  corner  of  the  chateau,  and  lighted  by  two  small  win- 
dows. It  had  no  dark  corridor  behind  it,  no  spiral  stairs  ; 
and  its  walls,  struck  by  the  hand,  gave  back  no  hollow 
sound.  The  only  disadvar.tage  about  this  room  was 
that  to  reach  it  you  were  obliged  to  pass  in  front  of  the 
lady  with  the  paroquet  nose, — portraits  which  ai'e  too 
polite  being,  I  confess  frankly,  not  quite  to  my  taste  ; 
however,  I  did  not  have  a  cold  in  my  head,  and  the 
young  countess  remained  undisturbed  in  her  armorial 
frame. 

The  most  curious  thing  in  the  chateau  was  a  hall  of 
the  sixteenth  century  preserved  intact,  and  it  gave  )uo 
reason  to  regret  that  the  possessors  of  this  manor,  about 
the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  had  felt  bound  to  renew 
the  decoration  of  their  apartments  in  the  style  of  Ver- 
sailles. It  is  incredible  how  long  and  despotically  this 
style  reigned,  and  of  how  many  beautiful  things  it  caused 
the  destruction. 

The  hall  was  wainscoted  with  oak  in  small  panels, 
forming  frames  of  equal  size,  relieved  by  some  light 
arabos(pie3  in  a  dull  gold,  which  harmonized  with  the 
tint  of  the  wood.     Each  frame  contained  an  emblematic 


38  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

painting  in  oils,  accompanied  by  a  device  in  Greek, 
Latin,  Spanish,  Italian,  German,  or  French,  suited  to  the 
subject  represented.  These  sentences  were  moral,  gal- 
lant, chivalrous,  Christian,  philosophic,  haughty,resigned, 
plaintive,  witty,  obscure.  Concetti  vied  witli  agutezzas. 
Puns  rivalled  epigrams.  The  Latin,  scowling  in  its 
enigmatic  conciseness,  assumed  the  airs  of  a  sphynx,  and 
looked  askance  at  the  more  limpid  Greek.  Platonism 
in  the  style  of  Petrarch,  amorous  subtleties  like  those  of 
Scalion  de  Virbluneau,  by  their  explanations  confused 
still  further  pictures  already  complicated  and  unintelli- 
gible. 

Storied  thus  from  plinth  to  cornice,  this  hall  would 
furnish  devices  for  the  blazons  of  a  tourney,  or  moral 
sentiments  for  an  album,  or  mottoes  for  a  confectioner's 
l^cqyillotGS ;  and  yet,  among  so  many  puerilities,  platitudes, 
and  over-wrought  sentimentalities,  flashed  out  suddeidy 
some  haughty  phrase  of  unexpected  and  profound  mean- 
ing, worthy  to  be  inscribed  upon  a  knight's  ring,  or  upon 
the  blade  of  a  sword. 

I  know  no  example  of  similar  decoration.  Of  course 
we  often  find  legends  and  monograms  interlaced  with 
ornaments,  but  nowhere  the  allegoric  figure  and  the 
motto  taken  for  the  sole  theme  of  the  ornamentation. 

Now  that  we  have  examined  the  chateau,  let  us  take  a 
turn  through  the  environs.  Two  ponies,  black  as  ebony, 
harnessed  to  a  light  phaeton,  shook  their  dishevelled 
manes,  and  pawed  the  ground  impatiently  at  the  end 
of  the  bridge.  The  chatelaine  took  the  reins  in  her  fair 
hands,  and  we  were  off.  We  crossed  at  full  speed,  with- 
out well-defined  road,  immense  pasture-lands,  where  fed 
or  ruminated  more  tlian  three  hundred  head  of  cattle,  in 
attitudes  which  would  have  delighted  Paul  Potter  or 
Troyon.  Bulls,  more  peaceful  than  those  of  Spain, 
suffered  us  to  pass  without  other  demonstration  than  a 
sidelong  look,  and  went  on  grazing.  Horses,  excited  by 
the  speed  of  the  ponies,  raced  beside  us  for  a  time,  then 
deserted  us.     The  fields  spread  wide  around  us,  slightly 


SCELESWIO.  39 

undulating,  and  bounded  by  a  kind  of  earth-work 
crowned  with  a  hedge.  A  coiiple  of  stakes  joined  by  a 
transverse  bar  serve^  as  gate  to  each  field,  and  one  must 
alight  from  the  phaeton,  and  let  down  the  bar,  which 
the  fiery  little  steeds,  I  thinfc,  M'onld  have  willingly 
leaped,  taking  tlie  carriage  with  them. 

In  less  than  twenty'  minutes  we  reached  a  wood 
crowning  the  summit  of  a  hill.  Elms,  oaks,  beeches  with 
mighty  trunks  and 'dense  foliage,  had  developed  those 
varied  attitudes,  tliose  odd  freaks,  those  vigorous  twists, 
that  sloping  ground  will  cause  in  trees.  This  wood  is 
full  of  fallow-deer,  and  the  badger  digs  his  hole  here, 
almost  safe  from  disturbance.  Here  and  there  pines 
stretched  out  their  arms,  and  lifted  their  crosiers  of 
sombre  green,  as  if  to  remind  me  of  the  North. 

Tlie  freshness  of  the  vegetation  astonished  me,  so  near 
the  ocean,  whose  salt  breath  usually  burns  away  the 
leaves  ;  but  the  trees  find  abundant  nourishment  in  the 
moist  earth,  and  are  well  able  to  resist  the  fierceness  of 
the  winds. 

Wo  emerged  from  the  road,  and  before  us  lay  the 
gulf,  spreading  to  the  open  sea — the  North  Sea — which, 
at  its  other  extremity  beats  upon  the  icy  covering  of  the 
pole,  and  in  winter,  balances  its  fields  of  ice  laden  with 
white  bears! 

At  this  moment  there  was  nothing  polar  about  it ;  a 
clear  sky  da[)pled  with  a  few  clouds,  was  mirrc)red  there- 
in, coloring  the  gray  water  with  a  i)ale  azure  tint.  A 
faint  current  made  the  seaweed  undulate  along  the 
shore,  cast  up  some  fragments  of  shells,  and  left  a  long 
fringe  of  foam  upon  the  sand. 

IJpon  successive  days  I  made  longer  excui-sions  in  a 
carriari:c  ;  but  great  wliitc  Mecklenburg  horses,  of  milder 
temper,  took  the  i)lace  of  tlie  little ^black  whirlwinds, 
and  they  were  driven  by  a  coachman  of  grave  and  mar- 
tial air. 

We  visited  a  residence  surrounded,  like  L ,  by  a 

double  moat.     Here  1  admired  a  hall  whose  ceiling  was 


40  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ornamented  witli  carvings  in  high  relief,  representing 
ninscs,  winged  genii,  and  musical  attributes.  An  organ, 
standing  upon  an  ehiborate  console,  made  me  question 
what  might  be  the  destination  of  the  place :  a  concert- 
hall,  or  a  chapel?  The  artists  of  the  eighteenth  century 
did  not  examine  closely  into  this ;  they  did  not  uaind 
confounding  Angels  and  Loves, — Operatic  glories,  and 
the  glories'of  Paradise.  The  old  lady,  tb.e  mistress  of 
the  house,  received  us  in  a  drawing-room  filled  with 
flowers,  the  ceiling  curiously  ornau-iented  with  armorial 
bearings  and  araljesqno  figures,  and  offered  us  a  tray 
loaded"  with  peaches,  pears,  and  grapes,  in  accordance 
with  the  hospitable  fashion  of  the  country  of  always 
presenting  some  collation  to  visitors.  Around  the  house 
extended'  a  garden,  or  rather  park,  cut  by  avenues  of 
lind'oiis  of  prodigious  height.  In  an  artificial  pond,  pn- 
tircly  covered  with  water-lentils,  a  swan  was  moving 
slowly  about,  cleaving  the  glassy  surface  which  closed 
again  l^ehind  him.     The  sight  of  tliis  swan  reminded 

me  that  there  were  none  at  'L ,  although  they  were 

represented  in  the  vignette.  The  preceding  winter 
they  had  been  devoured  in  their  house  by  foxes,  who 
came  across  upon  the  ice.  Less  melodious  than  their 
brothers  of  the  Meander,  no  song  was  exhaled  from 
their  long  throats  in  the  last  hour,  and  a  few  feathers 
were  all  that  was  found  of  them. 

Now  and  then  w^e  passed  upon  the  road  _a  humble 
vehicle  of  odd  construction ;  a  stout  fellow,  his  cap  over 
one  eye,  pii)G  in  his  mouth,  booted  like  a  cavalry-man, 
sitting  crouched  in  a  child's  wagon,  was  slothf  ully  drawn 
along,  not  by  watch-dogs,  mastiffs,  or  buU-dogs,  but  by 
three  or  four  curs,  real  tou-tous^  to  borrow  a  child's 
^vord, — so  disproportionate  to  the  weight  they  drew,  that 
one  could  not  but  laugh  at  seeing  them.  The  poor  ani- 
mals wore  having  a  dog's  life  of  it,  in  the  sad  meaning 
of  the  i)hraso. — Since  Tam  speaking  of  dogs,  letine  say 
that  in  Denmark  I  iiave  not  seen  a  single  Danish  dog, 
that  is,  the  kind  with  white  hair  regularly  spotted  with 


8GIILESWI0.  41 

black,  often  offering  the  grotesque  peculiarity  of  one 
eye  blue  and  the  other  brown.  These  are  generally  ani- 
mals without  pedigree,  without  character,  crossed  by 
chance,  curs,  of  no  special  type,  resembling  street-dogs, 
whose  only  merit  is  to  conscientiously  perform  escort- 
duty,  by  barking  from  one  end  of  a  village  to  the 
other. 

The  villages  are  hamlets  of  a  neatness  and  comfort 
which  it  is"  difficult  to  imagine  witliout  seeing  them. 
The  houses,  built  of  brick  in  accordance  with  a  regular 
plan,  covered  with  tiles  usually,  sometimes  with  thatch, 
with  their  clean  window-panes,  behind  Avhich  rare  plants 
are  growing  in  porcelain  flower- ]iots,  look  like  ornamen- 
tal cottages,  rather  than  peasants'  dwellings.  Tlie  sub- 
urban pavilions  and  villas  which  Parisians  hire  at  so 
great  expense  do  not  compare  with  tliese  bright,  pretty 
houses,  with  their  background  of  verdure,  and  the  little 
pond  which  usually  adjoins  them, 

Nor  are  the  inhabitants  out  of  keeping  with  the  rest 
of  the  picture.  Their  clotliing  is  neat  and  comfortable  ; 
the  men  wear  the  cap  Avith  Prussian  visor,  boots  outside 
the  trowsers,  short  waistcoats,  and  redingotes  with  h)ng 
skirts.  The  women  v/car  short-sleeved  dresses,  a  good 
deal  cut  out  in  the  neck,  and  go  about  bareheaded  for 
the  most  part.  It  made  me  chilly  to  look  at  them  in 
this  cool  weather,  with  their  light  dresses.  Not  ])er- 
fectly  white,  it  is  true,  but  of  striped  calico,  lilac,  bhie, 
or  pink.  Their  red  arms,  in  whicli  the  blood  circulates 
with  a  vigor  reminding  one  of  Jordaens'  pictures,  were 
robust  as'any  part  of  the  body  becomes  on  long  expos- 
ure to  the  air,  and  yet  you  could  see  by  their  color  that 
they  were  not  insensible  to  atmospheric  effects.  This 
style  is  followed  only  by  servants  and  v/omen  of  the 
poorer  class.  Here,  as  everywhere  else,  ladies  are 
dressed  after  the  French  fashion. 

Another  day  was  taken  up  by  an  excui-sion  to  Eckern- 
foede,  a  small  town  some  miles  distant.  The  road 
tliither  lay  bctweed  hedges  dotted  with  berries  of  every 


42  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

color, — mnlhorrics,  raoiintain-ash,  wald  plums,  barber- 
ries,— not  to  count  the  handsome  coral  knobs  that  re- 
main after  the  wild  rose  is  out  of  flower.  It  was  charm- 
ing. At  otlicr  times  we  passed  under  great  trees, 
llirongh  little  villages,  or  fields  ploughed  in  wavy  lines 
by  teams  of  superb  horses.  At  last  we  came  to  the  sea- 
shore and  drove  along  a  road,  laved  on  one  side  b}^  the 
waves,  and  on  the  other  lined  with  handsome  cottages, 
half -buried  in  flowers,  vv^hich  are  hired  by  the  season ; 
for  Eckernfocide  is  a  sea-shore  resort  like  Trouville  or 
Dieppe,  in  spite  of  its  somewhat  northern  latitude. 
Carriages  and  bathing-houses,  standing  along  the  beach, 
•bear  witness  that  the  courageous  oi.  both  sexes  do  not 
fear  to  expose  themselves  to  the  shock  of  the  icy  waves. 
Some  few  trading-vessels  lay  in  the  harbor,  and  along 
their  sides  floated,  contracting  and  dilating,  a  great 
quantity  of  those  transparent  or  pearl-colored  sea-mush- 
rooms, which  are  animals,  though  they  do  not  look  like 
it,  and  which  I  saw  once  in  the  Gulf  of  Leparto,  on  my 
return  from  Corinth — "  whither,"  as  saitli  the  local 
proverb,  "  everybody  is  not  allowed  to  go  ! " 

Eckernfoede,  save  for  the  stamp  which  is  impressed 
upon  every  city  by  the  masts  of  ships  rising  among  the 
trees  and  the  chinmeys,  does  not  differ  materially  from 
Schleswig  in  point  of  architecture.  There  are  the  same 
brick  churches,  the  same  houses  with  broad  windows, 
behind  which  you  perceive  flower-pots,  and  women  in 
lo^v-necked  dresses,  who  sew  industriously.  An  unwonted 
animation  was  enlivening  the  tranquil  streets  of  Eckern- 
foede at  the  time  I  saw  it ;  great  wagons  were  carrying 
home  to  their  respective  districts  soldiers  on  leave,  or 
discharged  from  service.  Though  crowded  and  ill- 
seated  enough,  the  men  seemed  intoxicated  with  delight ; 
perhaps,  also,  with  beer ! 

At  the  chateau  the  days  passed  agreeably,  diversified 
by  walking,  fishing,  reading,  conversation,  and  the  cigar ; 
and  the  nights  were  haunted  by  no  unpleasant  phan- 
toms.    "  The  woman  who  died  of  hunsjer  "  never  came 


scniEswio.  43 

to  ask  for  food ;  the  countess  with  the  paroquet's  nose 
never  liad  the  opportunity  to  say  to  nie,  "God  bless 
you  !  "  Only  once,  a  rain-storm,  driven  by  a  fierce  wind, 
scourged  the  window  panes,  with  noises  sinister  as  the 
flapping  of  owls'  whigs.  The  sashes  shook,  the  wood- 
woi'k  cracked  strangely,  the  rushes  in  the  moat  smote 
one  another  vehemently,  the  water  dashed  up  at  the  foot 
of  the  walls.  From  time  to  time  the  gale  gave  a  thump 
at  the  door,  like  one  who  was  urgent  to  come  in,  and 
had  not  the  key.  But  nobody  did  come  in ;  by  degrees 
the  sighing,  murmuring,  groaning — all  the  inexplicable 
noises  of  the  night  and" the  tempest— died  away  in  a 
decrescendo  which  Beethoven  himself  could  not  have 
graduated  moi-e  perfectly. 

The  morrow,  it  was  radiant  weather,  and  the  well- 
swept  sky  showed  more  brilliant  than  ever  before.  1 
should  have  been  glad  to  remain  longer ;  but  though  it 
is  admitted  that  all  roads  lead  to  Eorae,  it  is  less  sure 
that  they  all  conduct  a  man  to  St.  Petersburg;;  and  I 
had  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of  my  journey's  aim  amid 
the  delights  of  the  enchanted  castle ;  the  phaeton  took 
me  as  far  as  Kiel,  whence  I  was  to  return  by  rail  to 
Hamburg,  and  thence  to  Lubeck,  to  embark  upon  the 
"Keva"'for  St.  Petersburg. 


IV. 

LUBECK. 

T  is  necessary  to  go  to  Kiel  in  order  to  reach  the 
railway  ;  we  made  the  distance  in  an  open  carriage 
without  other  incident  than  a  halt  at  the  post-house 
half-way,  to  let  the  horses  breathe.  I  took  a  mug  of 
beer  in  the  hall  of  the  inn,  and  on  the  glass  I  saw,  en- 
graven with  a  diamond,  the  Spanish  name,  Saturnina 
Gomez.  At  once,  all  the  castanets  of  m}^  imagination 
were  set  playing;  doul)tless  she  who  bore  this  name 
was  young  and  beautiful ;  and  thereupon  in  my  brain 
a  little  romance  built  itself  up,  wherewith  Merimoe's" 
^^ Esimgnols  en  Danemark^''  had  much  to  do.  At  Kiel, 
rain  began  to  fall ;  at  first  line,  afterwards  in  torrents. 
This,  however,  did  not  prevent  me  from  wallcing,  um- 
brella i]i  hand,  across  its  beautiful  promenade  by  the 
sea,  while  I  was  waiting  for  the  Hamburg  train  to  be 
ready. 

Hamburg  is  worth  revisiting,  and  I  was  much  pleased 
to  make  some  further  expeditions  through  its  animated, 
lively,  picturesque  streets.  As  I  walked,  I  observed 
some  little  details  which  had  before  escaped  me  ;  for 
example,  the  wooden  boxes,  iron-bound  and  fastened  by 
chains  at  the  ends  of  bridges,  acconi])aiiicd  by  a  picture 
where,  to  excite  popular  sympathy,  all  imaginable  acci- 
dents at  sea  are  united  with  amusing  simplicitj' ; 
storms,  thunderbolts,  fires,  enormous  waves,  sharp- 
toothed  rocks,  capsized  vessels,  sailors  clinging  to  masts, 
or  translating, amid  the  foam,  Virgil's  lines: 

"  Rari  nantes  in  gurgite  vasto." 

Frequently  a   sailor,  bronzed  by  the   sun  of   every 


LUBECK.  .  45 

clime,  is  seen  to  fumble  in  his  tarry  pocket,  and  throw 
a  shilling  into  the  box  ;  or  a  little  girl  stands  on  tip- 
toe to  entrust  to  it  her  bit  of  money.  The  whole  goes, 
1  suppose,  to  form  a  fund  in  aid  of  the  families  of  sliip- 
wrocked  sailors.  This  box,  destined  to  receive  the  alms 
for  the  victims  of  Ocean,  a  few  steps  distant  from  slii[)s 
about  to  set  sail,  and  to  run  all  these  risks,  has  something 
religious  and  poetic  about  it.  The  human  brotherhood 
abandons  no  one  of  its  members,  and  the  sailor  can  go 
liis  way  more  tranquilly. 

I  must  mention  also  the  "  beer  tunnels,"  a  kind  of 
subterranean  cstaminet,  purely  local.  The  customers 
descend,  as  tuns  into  a  cellar,  by  a  few  steep  steps,  and 
take  their  seats  amid  a  fog  of  tobacco-smoke,  through 
which  faintly  glimmer  gaslights  from  the  extremity  of 
little  halls  with  arched  ceilings.  The  beer  that  you 
drink  is  excellent,  for  Hamburg  makes  eating  and 
drinking  a  specialty.  This  is  abundantly  proved  by 
the  numerous  shops  for  the  sale  of  "  delicacies,"  where 
you  will  find  eatables  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 

There  are  also  many  confectioners.  Germans,  es- 
pecially German  women,  have  a  childish  taste  for 
sweets.  These  shops  are  very  much  frequented.  Peo- 
ple go  there  to  nil)ble  hon-hons,  to  drink  syrups,  to  take 
ice-creams,  as  in  Paris  we  go  to  a  cafe.  At  every  step 
you  see  the  shining  gilt  letters  of  the  word,  conditorei  ; 
I  believe  I  do  not  exaggerate  in  putting  the  number  of 
confectioners  in  Hamburg  at  three  times  that  in  Paris. 

As  the  Lubeck  boat  was  not  to  leave  until  the  mor- 
row, I  went  to  Wiikius's  to  get  my  supper.  This  fa- 
mous establishment  occupies  a  low-ceiled  basement, 
which  is  divided  into  cabinets  ornamented  with  more 
show  than  taste.  Oysters,  turtle-souj),  a  truffled  filet^ 
and  a  bottle  of  Veuve  Cliquot  iced,  conqiosed  my  sim- 
ple bill  of  fare.  The  ])lace  was  filled,  after  the  Ham- 
burg fashion,  with  edibles  of  all  sorts  ;  things  early 
and  things  out  of  season,  dainties  not  yet  in  existence 
or  having  long  ceased  to  exist,  for  the  common  crowd. 


46  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

In  the  Kitchen  they  showed  us,  in  great  tanks,  huge  sea- 
tnrtles  vfliich  lifted  their  scaly  heads  above  the  water, 
resembling  snakes  caught  between  two  platters.  Their 
little  horny  eyes  looked  with  uneasiness  at  the  light 
wliich  was  held  near  them,  and  their  Hippers,  like  oars 
of  some  disabled  galley,  vaguely  moved  up  and  down, 
as  seeking  some  impossible  escape.  I  trust  it  is  not 
always  the  same  ones  that  are  shown  to  the  curious,  and 
that  the  perso/viel  of  the  exhibition  changes  occasion- 
ally. 

In  the  morning  I  went  for  my  breakfast  to  an  Eng- 
lish restaurant,  a  sort  of  pavilion  of  glass,  whence  I  had 
a  magnilicent  panoramic  view.  The  river  spread  out 
majesdcally  through  a  forest  of  vessels  with  tall  masts, 
of  every  build  and  tonnage.  Steam-tugs  were  beating 
the  water,  towing  sailing-vessels  out  to  sea;  others, 
moving  about  freely,  made  their  way  hither  and  thither 
with  that  precision  which  makes  a  steam-boat  seem  like 
a  conscious  being,  endowed  by  a  will  of  its  own,  and 
served  by  sentient  organs.  From  this  elevation  the 
Elbe  is  seen,  spreading  broadly  like  all  great  rivers  as 
they  near  the  sea.  '  Its  waters,  sure  of  arriving  at 
last,  are  in  no  haste  ;  placid  as  a  lake,  they  iiow  with  an 
almost  invisible  motion.  The  low  opposite  shore  was 
covered  with  verdure,  and  dotted  wath  red  houses  half- 
effaced  by  the  smoke  from  the  chinnieys.  A  golden 
bar  of  sunshine  shot  across  the  plain:  it  was  grand, 
luminous,  superb. 

In  the  evening  the  train  carried  me  to  Lubeck,  across 
magnilicent  cultivated  lands,  tilled  with  sunnner-houses, 
winch  lave  their  feet  in  the  brown  water,  overhung  by 
spreading  willows.  This  German  Venice  has  its  canal, 
the  Ih-enta,  whose  villas,  though  not  built  by  Sanmichele 
or  Palladio,  not  the  less  make  a  tine  show  against  the 
fresh  green  of  their  surroundings. 

On  arriving  at  Lubeck,  a  special  omnibus  received 
nic  and  my  luggage,  and  I  was  soon  set  down  at  the 
Hotel  Duifeke.      The  city   seemed   picturesque   as   I 


LUBECK.  47 

caught  a  glimpse  of  it  tlirougli  the  darkness  by  the 
vague  light  of  huiterus;  and  in  the  morning,  as  I  opened 
my  chamljer-window,  I  perceived  at  once  that  I  had  not 
been  mistaken.  The  opposite  liouse  had  a  truly  Ger- 
maii  aspect.  It  was  extremely  high  and  overtopped 
l)y  an  old-fashioned  denticulated  gable.  At  eacli  one 
of  tlie  seven  stories  of  the  house,  iron  cross-bars  spread 
themselves  out  into  clusters  of  iron- work,  suppoiting 
the  building,  and  serving  at  once  for  use  and  ornament, 
in  accordance  with  an  excellent  principle  in  arcliitect- 
nre,  at  the  present  day  too  much  neglected.  It  is  not 
by  concealing  the  fnimework,  but  by  making  it  more 
distinct,  that  we  obtain  more  character  in  our  build- 
ings. 

This  liouse  was  not  the  only  one  of  its  kind,  as  I  was 
able  to  convince  myself  on  walking  a  few  steps  out  of 
doors.  The  actual  Lubeck  is  still  to  the  eye  the  Lubeck 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  old  capital  of  the  Ilanseatic 
League.  All  the  drama  of  modern  life  is  enacted  iu 
the  old  theatre  whose  scenery  remains  the  same,  its  drop- 
scene  even  not  repainted.  What  a  pleasure  it  is  to  be 
walking  thus  amid  the  outward  life  of  the  past,  and  to 
contemplate  the  same  dwellings  which  long-vanished 
generations  have  inhabited!  Without  doubt,  the  living- 
man  has  a  I'ight  to  model  his  shell  in  accordance  with 
his  own  habits,  his  tastes,  and  his  manners  ;  but  it  can- 
not be  denied  that  a  new  city  is  far  less  attractive  than 
an  old  one. 

When  I  was  a  child,  I  sometimes  received  for  a 
New  Years'  present  one  of  those  Nuremberg  boxes  con- 
taining a  whole  miniature  German  city.  In  a  hundred 
different  ways  I  arranged  the  little  houses  of  ])ainted 
v.-ood  around  the  church  with  its  pointed  belfry  and  its 
red  walls,  where  the  seam  of  tlie  bricks  was  marked  by 
fine  white  lines.  I  set  out  my  two  dozen  frizzed  and 
painted  trees,  and  saw  with  dcliglit  the'charmingly  out- 
hmdish  and  wildly  festal  air  which  these  apple-green, 
pink,  lilac,  fawn-colored  houses  with  their  small  win- 


48  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

dow-panes,  their  retreating  gables,  and  their  steep  roofs, 
brilliant  with  red  varnish,  assumed,  spread  out  on  the 
carpet.  My  idea  Was  that  houses  like  these  liad  no 
existence  in  reality,  but  were  made  by  some  kind 
fairy  for  extremely  good  little  boys.  The  marvellous 
exaggeration  of  childhood  gave  this  little  parti-colored 
city  a  respectable  developuient,  and  I  walked  through 
its  regular  streets,  though  with  the  same  precautions  as 
did  Gulliver  in  Liliput.  Lubeck  gave  back  to  me  this 
long- forgotten  feeling  of  my  childish  days.  I  seemed 
to  walk  in  a  city  of  the  imagination,  taken  out  of  some 
monstrous  toy-box.  I  believe,  considering  all  the  fault- 
lessly correct  architecture  that  I  have  been  forced  to 
see  in  my  traveller's  life,  that  I  really  deserved  that 
pleasure  by  way  of  compensation. 

As  I  was  emerging  from  the  hotel,  a  bas-relief,  set 
into  a  wall,  claimed  my  attention.  Sculpture  is  rare  in 
countries  where  brick  abounds ;  this  represented  some 
kind  of  nereids  or  sirens,  quite  defaced  by  time,  but  of 
an  imaginative  and  ornamental  cliaracter  wiiicli  gave 
me  pleasure.  They  accompanied  great  heraldic  devices 
in  the  German  taste ;  an  excellent  theme  for  decoration 
when  well  managed,  and  the  Germans  thoroughly  un- 
derstood it. 

A  cloister,  or  at  least  a  gallery,  a  fragment  of  an 
ancient  monastery,  presented  itself  to  view.  This  col- 
onnade ran  the  whole  length  of  a  square,  at  the  end  of 
which  stood  the  Marienkirche,  a  brick  church  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  Continuing  my  walk,  I  found 
myself  in  a  market-place,  where  awaited  me  one  of  those 
sights  which  repay  the  traveller  for  much  fatigue :  a 
public  building  of  a  new,  unforeseen,  original  aspect, 
the  old  Stadt-haus  in  which  was  formerly  the  Ilanso 
hall,  rose  suddenly  before  me. 

It  occupies  two  sides  of  the  square.  Imagine,  in  front 
of  the  Miirienkirclie,  whose  spires  and  roof  of  oxydized 
copper  rise  above  it,  a  lofty  brick  fa9ade,  blackenetl  by 
time,  bristling  with  three    bell-towers  with    pointed 


LUBECK.  49 

copper-covered  roofs,  having  two  great  empty  rosc- 
wiiidows,  and  emblazoned  wftli  escutcheons  mscribcd  in 
the  trefoils  of  its  ogives,  double-headed  black  eagles  on 
a  gold  field,  and  shields,  half-gules,  half-argent,  ran^^ed 
alternately,  and  executed  in  the  most  elaborate  fashion 
of  heraldry. 

To  this  fa9ade  is  joined  ^valazzino  of  the  Eenais- 
sance,  in  stone  and  of  an  entirely  different  style,  its  tint 
of  grayish-white  marvellously  relieved  by  the  dark-red 
background  of  old  brick-work.  Tiiis  building,  with  its 
three  gables,  its  fluted  Ionic  columns^  its  caryatides,  or 
rather  its  Atlases  (for  they  are  human  figures),  its  semi- 
circular windows,  its  niches  curved  like  a  shell,  its 
arcades  ornamented  with  figures,  its  basement  of 
diamond-shaped  stones,  produces  what  I  may  call  an 
architectural  discord  tliat  is  most  nnexpected  and  charm- 
ing. V/e  meet  very  few  edifices  in  the  north  of  Europe 
uf'^'this  style  and  epoch.  The  movement  of  the  Refor- 
mation seldom  harmonized  vvith  this  return  to  Pagan 
ideas  and  classic  forms  modified  by  a  graceful  fancy. 

In  the  fa9ade,  the  old  German  style  prevails  :  arches 
of  brick,  resting  npon  short  granite  columns,  support  a 
gallery  with  ogive-windows.  A  row  of  blazons,  inclined 
from  right  to  left,  bring  out  their  brilliant  color  against 
the  blackish  thitof  tlie  wall.  It  would  be  diftjcult  to 
form  an  idea  of  the  character  and  richness  of  this  orna- 
mentation. 

This  gallery  leads  into  the  main  building,  a  structure 
than  which  no  scene-painter,  seeking  a  mediaeval  decor- 
ation for  an  opera,  ever  invented  anything  more  pic- 
turescpic  and  singular.  Five  turrets,  coiffed  with  roofs 
like  extinguishers,  raise  their  pointed  tops  above  the 
main  line'of  the  fa9ado  with  its  lofty  ogive-windows,-— 
unhappily  now  most  of  them  partially  bricked  \\\\  in 
accordance,  doubtless,  with  the  exigencies  of  alterations 
made  within.  Eight  great  disks,"  having  gold  back- 
grounds and  representing  radiating  suns,  double-headed 
eagles,  and  tlie  shields,  gules  aiuf  argent,  the  armorial 


60  A  WINTER  m  EUS3TA. 

bearings  of  Lul)cck,  are  spread  out  gorgeously  npon 
this  quaint  architecture.  Beneath,  arches  supported 
upon  short,  thick  pilhars  _yawn  darkly,  and  from  far 
within  there  comes  the  gleam  of  precious  metals,  the 
wares  of  some  goldsmith's  shop. 

Turning  back  towards  the  square  again,  I  notice,  ris- 
ing above  the  houses,  the  green  spires  of  another  church, 
and  over  the  heads  of  some  market-women,  who  are 
chaffering  over  their  fish  and  vegetaljles,  the  proiile  of 
a  little  building  with  brick  jjillars,  which  must  have 
been  a  pillory  in  its  day.  This  gives  a  last  toucli  to  the 
purely  Gothic  aspect  of  the  square  which  is  interrupted 
by  no  modern  edifice. 

The  ingenious  idea  occn_rred  to  me  that  this  splendid 
Stadt-haus  must  have  another  fa9ade ;  and  so  in  fact  it 
had;  passing  under  an  archway,  I  found  myself  in  a 
broad  street,  and  my  admiration  began  anew. 

Five  bell-towers,  built  half  into  tlie  wall  and  sepa- 
rated by  tall  ogive-windows  now  partly  blocked  up,  re- 
peated, with  variations,  the  fa9adc  1  have  just  described. 
Brick  rosettes  exhibited  their  curious  designs,  spread- 
ing with  square  stitches,  so  to  speak,  like  patterns  for 
worsted  work.  At  tlic  base  of  the  sombre  edifice  a 
pretty  little  lodge,  of  the  Renaissance,  built  as  an  after- 
thought, gave  entrance  to  an  exterior  staircase  gohig 
up  along  the  wall  diagonally  to  a  sort  of  mirador,  or 
overlianging  look-out,  in  exquisite  taste.  Graceful  littlo 
statues  of  Faith  and  Justice,  elegantly  draped,  decorated 
the  portico. 

The  staircase,  resting  on  arches  which  widened  as  it 
rose  higher,  was  ornamented  with  grotesque  masks  and 
caryatides.  The  mirador,  placed  above  the  arched 
doorway  opening  upon  the  market-place,  was  crowned 
with  a  recessed  and  voluted  pediment,  where  a  figure 
of  Themis  held  in  one  hand  balances,  and  in  the  other 
a  sword,  not  forgetting  to  give  her  drapery,  at  the  same 
time,  a  coquettish  puff.  An  odd  order  formed  of  fiated 
pilasters  fashioned  like  pedestals  and  supporting  busts, 


LUBECK.  51 

separatod  tlie  ^vind()^v3  of  this  aerial  cage.  Consoles 
with  fantastic  masks  coni[)]eted  the  elephant  orn:unenta- 
tion,  over  which  Time  had  passed  his  thumb  just 
enono;]!  to  o;ive  to  the  carved  stone  that  Uoom  which 
not! ling  can  imitate. 

The'  l)uilding  extended  in  a  more  simple  style,  deco- 
rated only  with  a  frieze  of  stone  representing  masks, 
figures,  aiid  foliage,  but  so  gnawed  by  time,  blackened, 
and  filled  up,  that  it  could  not  bo  well  discerned. 
Under  a  porch  sustained  by  Gothic  colonnettes  of  bluish 
granite,  I  noticed  two  benches,  whose  exterior  supports 
were  formed  by  two  thick  plates  of  bronze,  represent- 
ing, one,  an  emperor  with  the  crown,  glol^e,  and  hand 
of  justice;  the  other,  a  savage,  hairy  as  a  wild  1)east, 
armed  with  a  club,  and  a  sliield  with  the  l)laxon  of 
Lubeck;  the  whole  of  very  ancient  workmanship. 

The  ilarienkirche,  which  stan.ds,  as  I  have  said,  be- 
hind the  Stadt-haus,  is  well  woi-th  a  visit.  Its  two 
towers  arc  408  feet  in  height;  a  very  elaborate  bel- 
fry rises  from  the  roof  at  the  point  of  intersection  of 
the  transept.  The  towers  of  Lubeck  have  the  pecu- 
liarity, every  one  of  them,  of  being  ont^  of  the  per- 
pendicular, "^leaning  perceptibly  to  the  right  or  left, 
but  without  disquieting  the  eye,  like  the  tower  of 
Asinelli  at  Bologna,  or  the  Leaning  Tower  of  Pisa. 
Seen  two  or  three  miles  away,  these  towers,  drunk  and 
staggering,  with  their  pointed  caps  that  seem  to  nod  at 
theliorizon,  present  a  droll  and  hilarious  silhouette. 

On  entering  the  church,  the  first  curious  object  that 
meets  the  eye  is  a  co]iy  oi:  the  Todtentanz,  or  Dance  of 
Death,  of  the  cemetery  at  Basle.  I  do  not  need  to  de- 
scribe it  in  detail.  The  Middle  Age  was  never  tired  of 
composing  variations  upon  this  dismal  theme.  ^  The 
most  conspicuous  of  them  are  brought  together  in  this 
lugubrious  painting,  which  covers  all  the  vx-alls  of  one 
chapel  From  the  Pope  and  the  Emperor  to  the  infant 
in  his  cradle,  each  human  being  in  his  turn  enters  np(m 
the  dance  with  the  inevitable  Terror.     But  Death  is  not 


52  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

depicted  as  a  skeleton,  white,  polished,  cleaned,  articu- 
lated Avitli  copper  wire  like  the  skeleton  of  an  anatomi- 
cal cabinet :  that  would  be  too  ornamental  for  the 
vulo-ar  crowd.  He  appears  as  a  dead  body  in  a  more 
or  less  advanced  state  of  decomposition,  with  all  the 
horrid  secrets  of  the  tomb  carefully  revealed. 

The  Greeks  respected  the  modesty  of  Death,  and 
represented  him  only  under  the  form  of  a  beautiful 
sleeping  youth.  But  the  Middle  Age,  less  refined, 
plucked  away  the  sliroud,  exposing  him  with  all  his 
terrors  and  wretchedness,  in  the  pious  intention  of 
edifying  the  living.  In  this  nniral  painting  so  much  of 
graveyard  mould  still  clings  to  the  figure  of  Death,  that 
a  careless  eye  would  take  him  for  a  consumptive  negro. 

Very  rich  and  ornate  tombs  with  statues,  allegorical 
figures,  attributes,  blazons,  long  epitaphs  attached  to  the 
walls  or  hung  from  the  pillars,  forming  a  burial  chapel, 
as  in  the  church  Dei  Frari,  in  Venice,  make  the  Mar- 
ienkirche  an  interior  worthy  of  Peter  ISTeef,  painter  in 
ordinary  to  cathedrals. 

The  Marienkirche  has  two  pictures  by  Ovcrbeck : 
"  The  Descent  from  the  Cross,"  and  "  The  Entrance  into 
Jerusalem,"  which  are  greatly  admired  in  Germany. 
The  pure  religious  sentiment,  the  fervor,  and  the  suavity 
of  this  master  are  exhibited  in  these  pictures ;  but,  for 
myself,  their  effect  is  destroyed  by  his  archaic  affecta- 
tions and  his  forced  simplicity.  Their  delicacy  of  exe- 
cution shows  that  Overbeck  has  studied  the  charming 
primitive  painters  of  the  Umbrian  school.  In  his  own 
W(M'k,  as  v\'ell  as  in  the  picture  by  him  in  the  Pinacothek 
at  Munich,  blonde  Germany  comes  to  ask  from  dark- 
eyed  Italy  the  seci-ets  of  art. 

There  are  also  in  this  church  a  few  pictures  of  the 
old  German  school,  among  them  a  triptych  by  Jean 
Mostaiii't,  the  examination  of  which  I  was  compelled  to 
relinfjuish.to  go  and  place  myself,  at  the  instance  of  a 
beadle  desirous  of  ^ poarhoire^  before  one  of  those  very 
complicated  mechanical  clocks  which  mark  tlic  course 


LUBECK.  53 

of  tlie  Sim  and  moon,  and  the  date, — year,  month,  day, 
and  even  hour, — that  I  miglit  witness  the  procession  of 
the  painted  and  gilded  figures  representing  the  Seven 
Electors,  which  defile  before  a  Christ  in  Glory.  As  the 
clock  strikes  twelve  a  door  opens,  aud  the  electors,  ad- 
vancing around  a  semi-circle,  each  in  his  turn,  bovv' their 
heads  with  a  motion  so  sudden  and  energetic,  that,  in 
spite  of  the  consecrated  place,  one  cannot  but  smile. 
The  salute  made,  the  figure  recovers  itself  with  a  jerk, 
and  disappears  by  another  door. 

The  cathedral,  which  is  called  in  German  the  Dom, 
is  quite  remarkable  in  its  interior.  In  the  middle  of 
the  .nave,  filling  one  whole  arch,  is  a  colossal  Christ  of 
Gothic  stylo,  nailed  to  a  cross  carved  in  open-work,  and 
ornamented  with  arabesques.  The  foot  of  this  cross 
rests  upon  a  transverse  beam,  going  from  one  pillar  to 
another,  on  which  are  standing  the  holy  women,  and 
other  pious  personages,  in  attitudes  of  grief  and  adora- 
tion ;  Adam  and  Eve,  one  on  eitlier  side,  are  arranging 
their  paradisaic  costume  as  decently  as  may  be  ;  above 
the  cross  the  keystone  of  the  arch  projects,  adorned  with 
flowers  and  leafage,  and  serves  as  a  standing-place  for  an 
angel  with  long  wing.-. 

This  construction,  hanging  in  mid-air,  and  evidently 
light  in  vreight,  notwithstanding  its  magnitude,  is  of 
wood,  carved  with  much  taste  and  skill.  1  can  define  it 
in  no  l)etter  way  than  to  call  it  a  carved  portcullis,  low- 
ered half-wa}'  in  front  of  the  chancel.  It  is  the  first 
example  of  such  an  arrangement  that  I  have  ever  seen. 

Behind,  rises  the  pulpit-loft  with  its  three  arches,  its 
gallery  of  statuettes,  its  mechanical  clock,  where  the  hour 
is  struck  by  a  skeleton  and  an  angel  bearing  a  cross. 
The  baptismal  fonts  have  the  shape  of  a  highly  orna- 
mented little  building  with  Corinthian  colunms,  tlie 
intervals  between  giving  a  view  of  a  group  re])resenting 
Jacob  and  the  Angel.  The  cover  to  the  font  is  formed 
by  the  dome  of  the  little  building,  which  can  be  raised 
by  a  rope  hung  from  the  vault  above.     I  will  not  speak 


54  A  WmTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

of  the  tombs,  the  funereal  chapels,  and  the  organs  ;  but 
I  must  mention  two  old  paintings  in  fresco,  or  distemper, 
accompanied  by  a  long  inscription  in  Latin  pentameters, 
whei'e  is  seen  Charlemagne's  miraculous  stag,  with  the 
collar  on  his  neck  bearing  the  date  of  his  release, 
and  captured  four  or  five  hundred  years  later  by  a 
hunter,  on  the  very  spot  where  now  this  cathedral 
stands. 

The  Ilolstenthor,  a  city  gate  close  by  the  railway- 
station,  is  a  most  curious  and  picturesque  specimen  of 
German  mediaeval  architecture.  Imagine  two  enor- 
mous brick  towers  united  by  the  main  portion  of  the 
structure,  througli  which  opens  an  archway,  liice  a  basket- 
handle,  and  you  have  a  rude  skctcli  of  the  construction  ; 
but  you  woukl  not  easily  conceive  of  the  effect  produced 
by  the  high  summit  of  the  edifice,  the  conical  roofs  of  the 
tovrers,  the  whimsical  windov\?s  in  the  walls  and  in  the 
roofs,  the  dull  red  or  violet  tints  of  the  defaced  bricks. 
It  is  altogether  a  new  gamut  for  painters  of  architecture 
or  of  ruins ;  and  I  shall  send  them  to  Lubeck  by  the 
next  train.  I  recommend  to  their  notice  also,  very 
near  the  Ilolstenthor,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Trave,  five 
or  six  old  crimson  houses,  shouldering  each  other  for 
mutual  support,  bulging  out  in  front,  pierced  with  six 
or  seven  stories  of  v^^iiidows,  with  denticulated  gables, 
the  deep  red  reflection  of  them  trailing  in  the  water, 
like  some  high-colored  apron  which  a  servant-maid  is 
washing.  What  a  picture  Van  den  Ileyden  would  have 
made  of  this ! 

Following  the  quay,  along  which  runs  a  railway, 
where  freight-trains  were  constantlj^  passing,  I  enjoyed 
many  amusing  and  varied  scenes.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  Trave  were  to  be  seen,  amid  houses  and  clum])s  of 
trees,  vessels  in  various  stages  ui  building.  Here,  a 
skeleton  with  ribs  of  wood,  like  the  carcass  of  some 
stranded  whale  ;  there,  a  hull,  clad  with  its  planking, 
near  which  smokes  the  calker's  chaldron,  emitting  light 
yellowish  clouds.     Everywhere  prevails  a  cheerful  stir 


LUBECK.  53 

of  busy  life.  Carpenters  are  plauiiig  and  liannncrniij^, 
porters  are  rolling  casks,  sailors  are  scrubbing  the  decks 
of  vessels,  or  getting  the  sails  half  way  up  to  dry  them 
in  the  sun.  A  barque  just  arriving  conies  alongside  the 
quay,  the  other  vessels  making  i'oom  for  her  to  pas-. 
The  little  steam-boats  are  getting  u[>  steam  or  letting  it 
off ;  and  when  you  turn  towards  the  city,  through  the 
rigging  of  the  vessel,  you  see  the  church-towers,  which 
indine  gi-acefuUy,  like  the  masts  of  clippers. 

The  "Neva,"  whiciiwas  to  take  me  to  St.  Petersburg, 
was  quietly  getting  on  board  her  boxes  and  bales,  and 
gave  no  sign  of  being  ready  to  sail  on  the  appointed  day. 
As  it  i)roved,  she  was  not  to  go  till  one  day  later,  a  de- 
lay which  would  have  been  annoying  in  a  city  less 
charming  than  Lubeck.  But  I  profited  by  it  to  go  and 
sec  Don  CHovanni  performed  in  German,  by  a  German 
troupe.  The  theatre  is  new  and  very  pretty;  the  win- 
dows of  the  fa9ade  have  for  caryatides  figures  represent- 
ing the  Pluses.  I  was  not  so  well  satisfied  with  the 
manner  in  which  Mozai't's  great  work  v/as  rendered  in 
his  native  land.  The  singers  were  mediocre,  and  per- 
mitted themselves  in  many  places  strange  license;  for 
example,  to  replace  tlie  recitative  by  a  lively,  animated 
dialogue,  doubtless  because  the  nmsic  hindered  the  ac- 
tion \  Lop;)rcllo  indulged  in  pleasantries  in  the  worst 
])ossiblo  taste,  unrr)lling  before  the  eyes  of  the  weeping 
Elvira  an  interminable  strip  of  paper,  on  which  were 
pasted  the  pictures  of  the  thousand  and  three  victims 
of  his  master,  these  portraits  being  all  exactly  alike,  and 
resembling  a  woman  coiffed  d  la  giraffe,  in  the  fashion 
of  the  year  1S2S !     A7as  it  not  a  delightful  idea  ! 


V. 

CKOSSmG   THE   BALTIC. 

AT  the  designated  hour  the  "  Neva "  set  forth  on 
her  way,  moderating  her  speed  as  slie  followed 
the  windings  of  the  Trave,  whose  banks  are  covered 
with  ]n-ctty  conntry-houses — villSgiatures  of  the  richer 
inhabitants  of  Lubeck.  As  we  approach  the  sea  the 
river  widens,  its  banks  are  lower,  the  channel  is  marked 
by  buoys.  I  am  very  fond  of  these  horizontal  land- 
scapes ;  they  are  more  picturesque  than  is  generally 
believed.  A  tree,  a  house,  a  church-tower,  the  sail  of  a 
vessel,  assume  importance,  and  are  enough,  with  a 
vague,  vanishing  background,  for  the  mot-if  of  a  pic- 
ture. 

Along  a  narrow  line,  between  the  pale  blue  of  the 
sky  and  the  opalescent  gray  of  the  water,  is  designed 
the  silhouette  of  a  city  or  a  large  town, — Travemundc, 
probably.  The  shores  recede  farther  and  farther,  grow 
faint,  and  disappear.  In  front  of  us  the  water  assumes 
g]-eener  tints  ;  undulations,  at  first  feeble,  increase  by 
deo-rees  and  become  waves.  Here  and  there  white  caps 
are  seen.  The  horizon  ends  with  a  hard  blue  line — the 
flourish  that  Ocean  appends  to  his  signature.  We  are 
at  sea. 

'  Marine  painters  usually  seem  to  be  anxious  to  pro- 
duce an  effect  of  transparency,  and  when  they  succeed 
i!i  this  are  commended — the  very  word  being  an  eulo- 
gium.  But  the  ocean  is  heavy,  dense,  solid,  so  to 
speak,  and,  above  all,  opaque.  No  attentive  eye  can 
confuse  its  dense,  salt  Avater  with  that  of  a  river  or 
lake.  Doubtless  the  light  traversing  a  v\-ave  gives  it  a 
partial  transparency  ;  Init  the  general  tone  of  the  sea  is 


CnOSSINO   THE  BALTIC.  57 

always  dull,  and  its  local  power  is  so  great  that  it  de- 
prives the  adjacent  parts  of  the  sky  of  a  portion  of  their 
color.  By  the  solidity  of  its  tints  and  by  their  inten- 
sity, yon  recognize  that  this  is  a  formidable  element,  of 
irresistible  energy  and  of  prodigious  bulk. 

In  going  out  to  sea,  a  certain  impression  of  awe  conies 
over  any  one,  even  the  most  frivolous,  the  most  coura- 
geous, or  the  most  habituated.  You  leave  the  solid 
earth — where  death  may  reach  you,  it  is  true,  but  where 
at  least  the  ground  will  not  yawn  beneath  your  feet — 
to  furrow  the  immense  saline  plains,  the  covering  of 
that  abyss  which  hides  so  many  shipAvrecked  vessels. 
You  are  separated  from  the  turbulent  water  only  by  a 
fragile  board  or  a  thin  plate  of  metal,  which  a  wave 
can  beat  in,  a  reef  can  tear  open.  A  sudden  gust,  a 
fluriy  of  wind,  is  enough  to  capsize  you,  and  all  your 
skill  as  a  swimmer  will  but  serve  to  prolong  your  death- 
struggle. 

To  these  sombre  reflections  is  added  ere  long  the  in- 
describable misery  of  sea-sickness ;  the  affronted  ele- 
ment seems  resohed  to  cast  you  out  as  an  impure  thing 
among  the  algae  of  its  shores.  Resolution  disappears, 
the  muscles  are  relaxed,  the  temples  throb,  headache 
sets  in,  and  the  air  which  you  breathe  is  bitter  and  nau- 
seous. Everybody's  face  is  altered,  grows  livid  and 
green  ;  lips  become  violet ;  color  deserts  the  cheek,  and 
takes  refuge  upon  the  nose.  Tlien  each  one  resorts  to 
his  little  pharmacopa3ia :  this  one  nibbles  Maltese  bon- 
1)0718 ;  that  one  bites  a  lemon  ;  another  sniffs  at  his 
smelling-salts  ;  another  begs  for  a  cup  of  tea,  which  a 
sudden  lurch  of  the  vessel  lands  in  his  shirt ;  a  few 
courageous  ones  walk  up  and  down,  with  reeling  gait, 
an  unlighted  cigar  between  their  lips ;  almost  every- 
body ends  by  leaning  against  the  netting.  Happy  they 
who  have  presence  of  mind  to  select  the  leeward 
side  ! 

Meantime  the  vessel  goes  on  her  way,  and  pitches 
more  and  more  every  minute.  You  measure  the  masts 
3* 


58  A  WmiEB  IN  RUSSIA. 

and  smoke-stack  of  the  plniio-in^^  Ijoat  against  the  hori- 
zon-line, and  find  changes  of  level  of  seveial  3^ards; 
and  your  discomfort  is  aggravated.  All  around  3T;a 
waves  follow  one  another,  swell,  bnrst,  and  fall  in 
foam;  the  climbing  water  rushes  down  again  with 
dizzy  uproar  ;  now  and  then  a  wave  breaks  over  the 
deck,  and  is  i-esolvcd  into  salt  rain  running  over  (he 
floor,  after  having  given  the  passengers  an  nnexpectcd 
douche.  The  breeze  freshens,  and  the  pallet's  in  the 
rigging  give  out  that  sharp  wliistling  sound  which  is 
like  a  sea-bird's  cry.  The  captain  declares  that  the 
weather  is  delicious,  to  the  great  sui'prise  of  inexperi- 
enced travellers,  and  he  orders  the  jib  hoisted  ;  for  the 
wind,  which  was  dead  ahead,  now  comes  on  our  quar- 
ter. Thus  supported,  the  vessel  rolls  less,  and  her  speed 
is  increased.  Now  and  then  brigs  or  barques  pass  us, 
their  top-sails  clewed  up,  a  reef  taken  in  the  lower  sails, 
only  the  jib  out;  they  bury  their  noses  in  the  foam, 
and  execute  such  astonisliing  pyrrhics  that  you  doubt 
v/hether  the  sea  is  quite  so  friendly-minded  as  they 
choose  to  say. 

You  are  plucked  from  this  contemplation  by  the  ser- 
vant, who  comes  to  sa}'  that  dinner  is  served.  It  is  not 
so  easy  to  descend  to  the  saloon  by  a  staircase  whose 
steps  are  displaced  from  under  your  feet  like  the  rounds 
of  the  mysterious  ladder  in  the  initiatoiy  rites  of  fi'ee- 
masonry,  and  whose  walls  hit  you  alternately,  as  battle- 
dores a  shuttlecock.  At  last  you  sit  down  at  table  with 
a  few  intrepid  companions.  The  rest  are  lying  on  the 
deck,  wrapped  in  cloaks.  You  eat,  but  with  much  cir- 
cumspection, and  at  the  risk  of  putting  your  fork  into 
your  eye,  for  the  ship  is  dancing  her  best.  If  you  try 
to  drink,  with  the  precaution  worthy  of  an  acrobat, 
your  l)evcrage  plays  to  the  life,  Gozlan's  comedy,  "  Une 
tempete  dans  un  verve  d^aur 

Tills  difficult  exercise  ended,  you  return  to  the  deck 
rather  on  all  fours,  and  the  fresh  breeze  proves  encour- 
aging.    You  risk  a  cigar ;  it  is  not  too  offensive ;  you 


CROSSING   THE  BALTIC.  59 

arc  safe !  The  uncivil  sea-gods  will  demand  110  more 
libations  from  you  ! 

Whilst  joTi  -walk  tlie  deck,  your  legs  far  apart,  using 
your  arms  for  a  halancing-pole,  the  sun  goes  down  in  a 
bank  of  gray  cloud,  reddening  all  the  rifts  of  it,  and 
presently  the  wind  sweeps  the  whole  away.  The  hori- 
zon is  altogetlier  a  solitude  ;  no  more  outlines  of  ships. 
Under  a  pale  violet  sky  the  sea  grows  dai'k  and  wicked- 
looking  ;  later,  the  violet  turns  to  a  steel-blue.  The 
water  becomes  perfectly  black,  and -the  ^vhite  caps  sliine 
like  flakes  of  silver  on  a  funeral  pall.  Myriads  of  stars 
of  a  greenish  gold,  dot  the  immensity,  and  the  comet, 
witli  wide-streaming  hair,  seems  plunging  head-fore- 
most into  the  sea.  For  a  moment  its  tail  is  cut  trans- 
versely by  a  line  of  cloud. 

The  limpid  serenity  of  the  sky  does  not  prevent  the 
north  wind  from  blowing  with  all  its  lungs,  and  it  be- 
comes very  cold.  Everything  is  saturated  with  the 
salt  spray  that  the  wind  takes  off  from  the  crests  of  the 
waves.  The  idea  of  returning  into  the  cabin,  and 
breathing  its  hot,  mephitic  air,  gives  me  nausea,  and  I 
go  and  sit  down  by  the  smoke-stack,  leaning  my  back 
against  the  heated  sheet-ii-on,  and  sheltered  sufficiently 
by  the  paddle-boxes.  Nor  is  it  till  late  into  the  night 
that  1  seek  my  berth  and  fall  into  a  broken  sleep,  trav- 
ersed with  wild  dreams. 

In  the  morning  the  sun  rose,  red-eyed,  like  one  Avho 
has  slept  ill,  and  scarcely  able  to  draw  aside  his  curtains 
of  fog.  The  breeze  grew  more  and  more  fresh,  and 
vessels  ap])earing  at  intervals  on  the  horizon-line  were 
seen  to  describe  extraordinary  ])arabolas.  Seeing  me 
titubate  along  the  deck  like  a  drunken  man,  the  captain 
felt  it  his  duty  to  call  out,  to  reassure  me,  "  Sui>ei-b 
weather  !  "  but  his  strong  German  accent  gave  an  iron- 
ical tone  to  his  words  of  which  he  was  quite  uncon- 
scious. 

We  went  below  to  breakfast.  The  plates  were  held 
in  place  by  little  bars  of  wood  ;  the  decanters  and  bot- 


60  A  WHITER  zzY  nassiA. 

ties  wore  anchored  fast ;  but  for  this  precaution,  the 
table  would  have  been  cleared  without  Jiands.  In 
bringing  on  the  dishes,  the  stewards  gave  themselves  up 
to  extraordinary  gymnastic  perfcn-mances.  They  re- 
minded me  of  mountebanks  balancing  chairs  upon  the 
tip  of  the  nose.  Possibly  the  weather  was  not  so  fine 
as  the  captain  averred. 

Towards  eveiiing  the  sky  became  overcast,  rain  began 
to  fall — fine  at  first,  afterwards  heavier — and,  according 
to  the  proverb,  "  Small  rain  beats  down  great  wind," 
greatly  reduced  the  violence  of  the  gale.  From  time 
to  time  through  the  darkness  shone  the  light,  white  or 
red,  fixed  or  revolving,  of  some  light-house  indicating 
points  of  coast  to  be  avoided.  We  were  now  in  the 
gulf. 

"When  daylight  came,  a  low,  flat  stretch  of  laud,  an 
almost  imperceptible  line  between  sky  and  sea,  vvdiich 
might  be  taken  by  the  naked  eye  for  a  morning  fog  or 
the  vapor  from  the  water,  was  outlined  on  the  riglit. 
Sometimes  the  ground  itself,  was  hidden  by  the  sloping- 
sea,  and  half-blurred  rows  of  trees  seemed  to  emerge 
from  the  water.  There  was  the  same  efiect  in  regard 
to  houses  and  light-houses,  the  white  towers  of  tlie 
latter  often  being  taken  for  sails. 

At  the  left  we  passed  an  island  of  barren  rock,  or  at 
least  in  appearance  such.  Vessels  were  in  motion  along 
its  coasts,  and  having  recourse  to  a  marine  glass,  at 
first  sight  their  sails,  lighted  by  the  rising  sun,  looked 
like  fa9ades  (;f  houses  against  the  purplish  backgroinid 
of  the  shore  ;  on  closer  examination,  the  island  was  seen 
to  be  uninhabited,  and  to  contain  only  a  watch-tower 
raised  upon  a  slope. 

The  sea  was  now  somewhat  pacified,  and  at  dinner, 
from  the  depths  of  their  cabins,  emerged,  like  spec- 
tres from  their  touibs,  unknown  figures,  passengers  of 
whose  existence  we  had  not  been  aware.  Pale,  fam- 
ished, with  tottering  steps,  they  dragged  themselves  to 
the  table  ;  but  they  did  not  all  dine ;  the  soup  was  still 


CBOSSINO   TUE  BALTIC.  Gl 

too  stormy,  the  roast  meat  too  tempestnons.  After  a 
spoonful  or  two,  they  rose  and  tottered  back  to  the 
cabin  stairway. 

A  third  night  overspread  the  waters;  this  was  the 
last  to  be  spent  on  board,  for  on  the  moiTow  at  eleven, 
all  going  well,  we  should  be  in  sight  of  Cronstadt,  I 
remained  late  on  deck  looking  out  into  the  darkness, 
and  devoured  with  feverish  curiosity.  After  two  or 
three  hours  of  sleep  I  came  np  again,  anticipating  the 
rising  of  the  sun,  who  seemed  on  this  day — to  me,  at 
least — to  be  a  sad  sluggard. 

Who  has  not  experienced  the  wretchedness  of  the 
honr  before  the  dawn  ?  It  is  damp,  icy,  and  shivery. 
The  robust  experience  a  vague  discomfort ;  the  sick 
feel  themselves  losing  strengtli ;  every  fatigue  becomes 
more  insupportable ;  midnight  phantoms,  nocturnal 
terrors,  seem  to  brush  one  with  their  clammy  bat- 
wings,  as  they  take  their  flight.  You  think  of  those 
who  are  no  more,  of  those  who  are  absent ;  you  perform 
doleful  introspection  ;  you  regret  the  domestic  liearth 
voluntarily  deserted  :  but,  with  the  lirst  ray  of  sunshine, 
all  is  forgotten. 

A  steam-boat,  her  long  f  eatlier  of  smoke  streaming  out 
after  her,  passes  at  our  right ;  she  is  going  westward, 
and  comes  from  Cronstadt. 

The  gulf  narrows  more  and  more ;  the  shores,  level 
with  tlio  water,  are  now  bare,  now  clad  in  sombre  ver- 
dure ;  watch-towers  rise  in  sight ;  barques,  shij^,  come 
and  go,  following  the  channel  marked  out  by  buoys  and 
stakes.  The  water,  grown  shallow,  changes  color  from 
its  proximity  to  the  earth,  and  gulls,  the  first  we  have 
seen,  are  sweeping  through  the  air  in  graceful  evolu- 
tions. 

With  the  glass  we  can  see  ahead  of  us  two  rose- 
colored  spots,  dotted  with  black  points ;  a  fleck  of  gold, 
one  of  green  ;  a  few  lines  slender  as  cobweb,  a  few 
spirals  of  white  smoke  rising  into  the  pure,  still  air: 
this  is  Cronstadt. 


62  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

At  Paris,  during  the  Crimean  M^ar,  I  frequently  saw- 
plans  of  Cronstadt,  all  more  or  less  imaginative,  with 
cross-fires  of  cannon  represented  by  nndtifold  lines 
like  the  i-ays  of  a  star  ;  and  I  have  made  man^'  an  un- 
successful effort  to  represent  to  myself  the  real  aspect 
of  the  city.  But  the  most  detailed  plans  give  no  no- 
tion of  the  silhouette  as  it  really  appears. 

The  paddle-wheels,  sweeping  through  the  calm,  almost 
motionless,  water^  carried  us  foi'ward  rapidly,  and  al- 
ready I  could  distinguish  clearly  a  rounded  fortress 
Avith  four  stories  of  embrasures  at  the  left,  and  at  the 
right  a  square  bastion  coniniandiug  the  entrance.  Flank- 
ing batteries  appeared  at  the  water-level.  The  fleck  of 
yellow  changed  to  a  golden  dome  of  wonderful  lustre 
and  transparency  ;  the  light  was  concentrated  on  the 
salient  point,  and  the  parts  in  shadow  assumed  amber 
tints  of  incredible  fineness.  The  fleck  of  green  was  a 
cujiola  painted  of  that  color,  that  looked  as  if  it  were 
oxydized  copper.  A  golden  dome,  a  green  cupula :  at 
first  sight,  Eussia  shows  herself  in  her  characteristic 
colors. 

From  a  bastion,  rose  one  of  those  tall  signal  masts 
which  look  so  well  in  marine  pictures,  and  behind  a 
granite  mole  w^ere  a  crowd  of  war-vessels  in  winter 
trim.  Countless  ships  with  the  flags  of  all  nations  encum- 
bered the  harbor,  and  formed  with  their  masts  and  cor- 
dage a  kind  of  half-grown  forest. 

A  derrick  for  putting  in  masts,  with  its  beams  and 
pulleys,  rose  at  the  corner  of  a  quay  which  was  covered 
with  hewn  timber,  and,  a  little  in  the  rear,  the  houses  of 
the  city  appeared,  painted  of  diverse  tints,  some  having 
green  roofs,  all  lying  very' low,  and  only  the  domes  and 
the  little  cu[)olas  of  the  churches  I'ising  above  the  level 
of  the  rest.  These  famous  strongholds  ofi:er  as  little  to 
the  eye  and  to  the  cannon  as  possible ;  the  sublime  in  this 
regard  would  be  to  have  them  completely  invisible;  wo 
shall  come  to  it  by  and  by. 

From  a  building  with  Greek  fa9ade,  custom-house  or 


CROSSING   THE  BALTIC.  G3 

police-station,  came  off  boats,  rowing  toM'ards  ns  as  we 
now  lay  anchored  in  the  roads.  It  reminded  me  of  the 
visits  of  heahh-officcrs  in  the  eastern  Mediterranean, 
where  rascals,  far  more  pestiferous  than  ourselves,  in- 
lialiuij^  evil-smelling-  vinegar,  came  out  to  take  our  pa]jers 
by  the  aid  of  tongs.  Everybody  was  on  deck  ;  and  in 
a  skiff  wliich  seemed  to  be  waiting  nntil,  formalities 
ended,  some  traveller  should  wish  to  go  ashore,  I  saw 
the  tirst  mujik.  He  was  a  man  of  twenty-eight  or 
thirty,  with  long  hair  parted  in  the  middle,  a  blonde 
beard  slightly  curled,  like  that  which  painters  give  to 
the  figure  of  Christ,  with  well-knit  limbs,  and  manag- 
ing his  two  oars  with  ease.  lie  wore  a  pink  shirt,  girt 
at  the  waist,  and  hanging  outside  the  trousers  with  an 
effect  of  tunic  or  frock,  not  ungraceful.  His  trousers, 
of  some  blue  material,  loose  and  ha\ing  many  folds, 
were  tucked  into  his  boots  ;  on  his  head  a  cap,  or  small 
Hat  hat,  narrowed  in  the  middle,  spreading  out  above, 
and  turned  up  all  round  the  brim. 

And  now  the  employes  of  the  police  and  the  cns- 
tom-house,  clad  in  long  redingotes,  wearing  the  Itussian 
fatigue-caps,  and  most  of  them  having  medals  or  deco- 
rations, came  on  board,  and  fulfilled  their  duties  with 
much  courtesy. 

We  went  below  to  receive  our  passports,  vrliich  had 
been  })laced  in  the  captain's  hands  on  stai-ting.  There 
were  English,  Germans,  French,  Greeks,  Italians,  and 
some  even  of  other  nationalities ;  to  our  sur^jrisc,  the 
officer  in  command,  a  very  young  man,  changed  his  lan- 
guage with  each  interlocutor,  speaking  English  to  the 
Englishman,  German  to  the  German,  and  so  on,  with- 
out making  any  mistake  as  to  the  nationality  of  each. 
Like  Cardinal  Angelo  Mai,  he  seemed  to  know  every 
possible  idiom.  When  it  was  my  turn,  he  returned  to  nie 
my  passport,  saying  as  he  did  so,  with  the  purest  Paris- 
ian accent :  "  11  y  a  longtemps  que  vous  etes  attendu  a 
Saint-Petersbourg."  (\  on  have  been  expected  here 
for  a  long  time.)     The  truth  is,  1  had  come  like  a  boy 


64  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

on  his  way  to  school,  and  had  been  a  month  on  a  jour- 
ney which  could  have  been  made  in  a  week.  To  the 
passport  was  appended  a  trilingual  paper,  indicating 
certain  formalities  to  be  observed  upon  arriving  in  the 
city  of  the  Czars. 

The  "Neva"  was  again  underway,  and  standing  upon 
the  prow,  I  watched  with  eager  eyes  the  wondrous  pan- 
orama unfolding  before  me.  We  had  entered  that  arm 
of  the  sea  into  which  the  Neva  spreads  out.  It  was 
rather  lilvc  a  lake  than  a  gulf.  As  we  kept  in  the 
middle  of  the  channel,  the  shores  on  each  side  could 
scarcely  be  discerned.  The  water,  spreading  far  away 
on  either  side,  seemed  higher  than  the  land,  which  was 
like  a  fine  pencil-stroke  upon  a  llat-tinted  water-color. 
The  weather  was  magnificent.  A  light,  dazzling  but 
cold,  fell  from  the  clear  sky;  it  was  a  boreal  azure — 
polar,  so  to  S])eak — with  shades  of  milk,  opal,  steel,  of 
which  our  sky  gives  no  idea  ;  a  pure,  white,  sidereal 
radiance,  which  does  not  seem  to  emanate  from  tliesun, 
which  is  ^vhat  one  sees  in  dreams,  in  some  other  planet 
than  our  own. 

•  Under  this  milky  vault  the  immense  watery  level  of 
the  gulf  was  stretched  out,  tinted  with  colors  that  no 
pen  can  describe,  in  which  the  ordinary  tones  of  water 
went  for  nothing.  Now  they  were  opaline  white  tints, 
such  as  you  see  in  certain  shells, — now,  pearly  grays  of 
incredible  delicacy ;  further  on,  Ijlues,  lustreless  or 
streaked  like  a  Damascus  blade,  or  else  rainbow-hued 
reflections  like  those  of  the  pellicle  on  molten  tin  ;  to  a 
belt  as  smooth  as  glass,  succeeded  a  broad  band  waved 
like  moire  antique  ;  and  all  this  light,  soft,  vague,  lim- 
pfid,  clear,  to  a  degree  that  no  pen  and  no  palette  can 
render.  The  freshest  tint  from  human  pencil  would 
have  been  a  muddy  stain  upon  transparency  so  ideal, 
and  the  words  that  I  employ  to  give  an  idea  of  this  mar- 
vellous pale  splendor  seem  to  me  like  blots  of  ink,  fall- 
ing on  the  finest  tinted  vellum  from  a  spattering  pen. 

if  some  vessel  sailed  past  us  with  its  genuine  color, 


CEOSsmo  THE  baltig.  65 

its  salinon-coloi'cd  masts,  its  outlines  clear  and  sharply 
defined,  it  resembled,  in  the  midst  of  this  Elvsian  bine, 
a  balloon  floatini^  in  mid-air;  one  could  dream  of  notli- 
inp;  more  like  fairy-land  than  this  luminous  iniinity. 

In  the  distance,  emerged  slowly  between  the  milky 
water  and  the  opaline  sky,  encircled  by  its  mural  crown 
crenellated  with  turrets,  the  superb  silhouette  of  St. 
].^etersburg,  whose  tints  of  amethyst  drew  a  line  of  de- 
markation  between  these  two  pale  immensities  of  sea 
and  sky.  Gold  scintillated  in  scales  and  in  needles  upon 
this  diadem,  the  richest,  the  most  beautiful,  that  ever 
city  wore  upon  its  brow.  Soon  St.  Isaac's  outlined  be- 
tween its  four  bell-towers  its  cupola  of  gold,  like  a  tiara  ; 
the  Admiralty  darted  liigh  in  air  its  glittering  arrow  ; 
the  church  of  St.  Michael  the  Archangel  rounded,  its 
domes  of  Muscovite  curve ;  that  of  the  Horse-Guards 
lifted  sharp  ])yramids,  their  tips  adorned  with  crosses ; 
and  a  crowd  of  more  remote  church  towers  gleamed 
with  their  metallic  lustre. 

Nothing  exists  more  splendid  than  was  that  golden 
city,  upon  that  horizon  of  silver,  when  the  evening  had 
all  the  white  radiance  of  the  dawu. 


YI. 

ST.    PETERSBURG. 

THE  Neva  is  a  fine  river,  nearly  as  large  as  the 
Thames  at  London  Bridge  ;  its  course  is  not  l<mg  ; 
it  rises  in  Lake  Ladoga,  and  is  the  outlet  from  it  into 
the  Gulf  of  Finland.  A  few  revolutions  of  the  wheels 
brought  us  alongside  of  a  granite  quay,  near  which  was 
lying  quite  a  flotilla  of  little  stearn-boats,  schooners,  and 
barges. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  on  the  right,  that  is, 
as  you  go  up  stream,  were  to  be  seen  t]ie  roofs  of  ini- 
niense  sheds  under  whicli  vessels  were  building;  on  the 
left,  great  structures  with  fronts  like  palaces,  the 
buildings  of  the  engineer  corps  and  the  School  of  Na- 
val Cadets,  stretched  away  in  stately  outline.  It  is  no 
small  affair  to  put  on  shore  all  the  luggage, — trunks, 
valises,  hat-boxes,  packages  of  every  description,— which 
load  the  deck  of  a  steam-boat  as  she  reaches  her  landing- 
place,  and  for  each  traveller  to  I'ecognize  his  own  out  of 
all  this  mass.  But  a  whole  swarm  of  mujiks  had  soon 
carried  it  all  away  to  the  oflice  of  inspection  on  the 
quay,  each  piece  followed  closely  by  its  anxious  owner. 

Most  of  tliese  mujiks  w^ore  the  pink  skirt  outside  their 
trousers,  like  a  jacket,  wide  trousers,  and  the  boots  half- 
way up  the  leg;  others,  though  the  weather  was  unusu- 
ally mild,  were  already  niuuied  in  the  touloupe,  or 
sheepskin  tunic.  The  touloupe  is  worn,  the  wool  in- 
wards, and  when  it  is  new  the  tanned  skin  is  of  a  pale 
salmon  color,  rather  pleasing  to  the  eye ;  some  coarse 
stitching  simulates  trimming,  and  tlie  whole  is  not  want- 
ing in  character;  but  the   mujik   is  as  faithful  to  his 


S7'.   PETERSBURG.  G7 

touloupe  as  tlic  Arab  to  his  bunionse :  once  assumed, 
it  is  never  off  liis  back;  it  is  liis  tent  and  liis  bed;  he 
lives  in  it  by  day  and  ni<>;ht,  sleeps  in  it  in  all  corners,  on 
all  benches,  npon  all  stoves.  Consecpiently  the  garment 
soon  becomes  greasy  and  sliiny,  and  acquires  those  tints 
of  bitumen  v/hich  the  S}>anish  painters  affect  in  tlieir 
chanicteristic  pictures.  Unlike  ]\lurillo's  r.nd  Ribera's 
models,  however,  the  mujik  is  clean  under  this  greasy 
coat,  for  he  o-oes  throuo;h  a  Russian  bath  every  week. 

Til* 

These  men  with  long  hair  and  enormous  beards,  clad  in 
the  skins  of  animals,  upon  this  splendid  quay  wlicnce 
you  see  on  every  side  domes  and  spires  of  gold,  l)y  con- 
trast seize  upon  the  stranger's  imagination.  Do  not, 
however,  fancy  in  their  aj)pearance  anything  savage  or 
dangerous  ;  their  faces  are  gentle  and  intelligent,  and 
their  courteous  maimers  put  to  shame  the  brutality  of 
our  porters. 

My  trunk  was  examined  witliout  other  incident  tlian 
the  very  eas}^  discovery  of  Balzac's  Parents piuvres  and 
Les  Ailes  (V leave  of  Charles  de  Bernard,  lying  upon 
my  linen  ;  they  were  taken  away,  but  I  was  assured 
that  I  should  receive  them  again  on  application  at  the 
bureau  of  censure. 

These  formalities  over,  I  was  free  to  wander  at  will 
through  the  city.  A  crowd  of  droschkys  and  little  carts 
for  transportation  of  lugj^nge  were  waiting  outside, 
sure  of  iinding  employment.  I  knew  well  enough  in 
French  the  name  of  the  place  where  I  had  been  advised 
to  stop,  but  it  was  necessary  to  translate  it  into  Russian 
for  the  coachman.  One  of  those  ilomestiques  de  place, 
who  seem  no  longer  to  have  a  motlier  tongue,  and  have 
created  for  themselves  a  kind  of  lui'j'ca  Franca^  not  un- 
like the  jargon  which  the  pretended  Turks  employ  in 
the  ceremony  in  the  Boargeois  Geiitllh.oDime,  saw  my 
perplexity;  understood  in  a  general  way  that  I  wanted 
to  go  to  the  Hotel  de  Russic,  kept  by  M.  Klie  ;  piled  up 
my  luggage  on  a  rospousky ;  climbed  up  beside  me, 
and  we  were  off.     The  rospousky  is  a  low  wagon  of  the 


68  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

most  primitive  constrncti()ii  :  a  couple  of  rouglihewii 
logs  placed  on  four  small  wheels, — it  is  no  more  compli- 
cated than  this. 

To  one  who  has  just  come  from  the  majestic  solitudes 
of  the  sea,  the  whirl  of  human  activity  and  all  the  tu- 
mnlt  of  a  great  city  cause  a  kind  of  vertigo  ;  yon  pass, 
borne  along  as  in  a  dream,  among  unknown  objects,  de- 
siring to  see  everything,  yet  seeing  nothing  ;  you  seem 
to  be  still  balancing  npon  the  waves,  esj>ecially  when  a 
vehicle,  no  better  hinig  than  a  rosponsky,  makes  you 
pitch  and  roll  over  the  inequalitiesof  the  pavement,  and 
on  solid  gronnd  gives  yon  a  reminiscence  of  the  malady 
peculiar  to  the  sea.  However,  thougli  rudely  shaken 
about,  I  did  not  lose  a  single  instant,  devouring  with 
my  eyes  the  novel  sights  which  presented  themselves  to 
me. 

We  soon  came  to  a  bridge  which,  later,  I  knew  as  the 
Bridge  of  the  Annunciation,  or,  more  familiarly,  the 
Bridge  Nicholas  ;  it  is  entered  by  two  movable  ways  which 
arc  displaced  to  allow  the  passage  of  boats,  and  then  re- 
united, the  confornratiou  of  the  bridge  being  a  Y,  with 
very  short  branches.  At  the  point  of  junction  stands  a 
little  chapel  of  extreme  richness,  of  which,  in  passing,  I 
could  observe  only  the  mosaics  and  the  gilding. 

At  the  end  of  this  bridge,  whose  piers  are  of  granite 
and  the  arches  of  iron,  we  turned  and  went  up  the  Eng- 
lish Quay,  which  is  lined  with  palaces  of  the  classic 
style,  or  with  private  residences  ]iot  less  splendid,  all 
painted  in  gay  coloi'S,  having  balconies  and  porticos 
projecting  over  the  sidewalk.  Most  of  the  houses  in  St. 
Petersburg,  like  those  in  London  and  Berlin,  are  of 
brick,  covered  with  stucco  tinted  in  different  shades,  so 
as  to  bring  out  the  architectural  outlines,  and  produce  a 
line  decorative  effect.  As  we  passed  along,  I  noticed 
with  admiration,  l^ehind  the  glass  of  the  lower  windows, 
bananas  and  broad-leaved  tropical  plants,  suggesting  a 
conservatory  in  every  house. 

The  English  Quay  debouches  into  the  great  square, 


ST.   PETEItSBURO.  G9 

where  the  Peter  the  (i-rcat  of  Falcoimet,  one  arm  ex- 
tended towards  the  Neva,  reins  back  his  rearing  horse, 
at  the  top  of  the  rock  wliich  serves  for  a  pedestah  I 
recognized  it  instantly  from  Diderot's  description,  and 
from  drawings  whicli  I  had  seen.  Across  the  square  I 
saw  the  grand  outlines  of  St.  Isaac's  with  its  golden 
d<:)me,  tiara  of  columns,  its  four  bell-towers,  and  its 
octostylic  portico.  Returning  to  the  English  Quay, — at 
the  entrance  of  a  street,  are  seen  columns  of  porphyr}-, 
winged  Victories  of  bronze  lioldiTig  palms.  AH  this, 
half  discerned  through  the  rai)idity  of  the  drive  and 
the  surprise  of  novelty,  formed  a  magnificent  and  Baby- 
lonian ensemhle. 

Continuing  in  the  same  direction,  the  immense  palace 
of  the  Admiralty  soon  came  in  sight.  From  a  square 
tower,  in  the  form  of  a  temple  ornamented  with  colou- 
nettes,  which  is  placed  upon  the  main  roof,  springs  that 
slender  golden  spire,  with  a  ship  for  a  vane,  that  is  seen 
at  so  great  a  distance,  and  that  attracted  my  attention 
from  the  Gulf  of  Finland.  The  trees  in  the  avenue 
surrounding  the  building  had  not  yet  lost  their  leaves, 
although  the  autunm  was  already  far  advanced  (Octo- 
ber 10th). 

Still  farther,  in  the  centre  of  another  square,  s])rings 
from  its  bronze  base  the  column  of  Alexander,  a 
stupendous  monolith  of  red  granite,  surmounted  by  an 
angel  holding  a  cross.  Of  this  I  caught  merely  a 
glimpse,  for  the  driver  turned  a  corner  and  came  into 
the  Newsky  Prospekt,  which  is  to  St.  Petersburg  what 
the  Rne  do  Rivoli  is  to  Paris, — Regent  Street  to  London, 
— the  Calle  d'Alcala  to  Madrid,— the  Strada  di  Toledo 
to  Naples, — that  is  to  sa}',  the  main  artery  of  the  city, 
the  most  frequented  and  most  animated  of  all  its 
streets. 

What  struck  me  especially,  was  the  innnense  throng 
of  carriages — and  a  Parisian  is  not  apt  to  be  astonished 
in  this  respect — which  were  in  motion  in  the  broad 
street ;  and,  above  all,  the  extreme  speed  of  the  horses. 


70  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

The  drosclikys  are,  as  e\erybody  knows, a  kind  of  small 
phaeton,  low  and  very  light,  and  containing  at  raost  but 
two  persons  ;  they  go  like  the  wind,  guided  by  coach- 
men as  bold  as  they  are  skilful.  They  brushed  past 
our  rospousky  with  the  rapidity  of  swallows ;  they 
passed  each  other,  they  crossed  each  other's  track,  they 
went  from  pavement  of  wood  to  pavement  of  granite, 
without  the  least  collision  ;  what  seemed  inextricable 
confusion  came  out  right  as  if  by  enchantment,  and 
each  one  went  his  separate  way  at  full  speed,  finding 
room  for  his  vvdieels  wliere  a  hand-cart  could  not  have 
gone  by. 

The'Newsky  Prospckt  is  at  the  same  time  the  street 
of  sho])s  and  tlie  fashionable  street  of  St.  Fetei-sbm-g. 
Rents  are  as  high  as  on  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens;  it 
is  a  truly  pe(;uliar  melange  of  shops,  palaces,  and 
churches ;  upon  the  signs,  glitter  in  gold  the  beautiful 
characters  of  the  Russian  alphabet,  whicli  retains  many 
Greek  letters  and  is  exquisitely  adapted  for  inscrip- 
tions of  every  kind. 

All  this  passed  before  my  eyes  like  a  dream  ;  for  the 
rospousky  went  at  a  rapid  pace,  and,  before  I  was  well 
aware,  1 'found  myself  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  of  the 
Hotel  de  liussie,  whose  landlord  scolded  the  domeMique 
de 2)lace  vo\\\\(^\j  for  having  installed  my  lordship  upon 
so  wretched  a  vehicle. 

The  Hotel  de  Russie,  at  the  corner  of  the  Place 
Michael,  near  the  Newsky  Prospekt,  is  nearly  as  large 
as  the  Hotel  du  Louvre  in  Paris;  its  corridors  are 
longer  than  many  streets ;  you  might  easily  fatigue 
.  yourself  in  walking  through  'them.  The  lower  j^art  is 
taken  up  by  extensive  dining-halls  adorned  with  green- 
house plants  ;  in  the  first  of 'these  is  a  kind  of  bar-room, 
-\vhere  are  served  caviare,  herrings,  sandwiches  of  white 
or  black  bread,  cheese  of  many  kinds,  bitters,  kliminel, 
and  brandy  ;  with  which,  according  to  Russian  fashion, 
the  guests  may  stimulate  their  appetite  before  dinner. 
Their  hors  d'oeuvres  are  eaten  here  before  the  meal  it- 


ST.   PETERSBURG.  71 

self  ;  but  T  have  travelled  too  mncli  to  fiiid  this  cnstom 
straii£>'e.  Eveiy  country  has  ways  of  its  own  ;  iu  Swe- 
den do  they  not  serve  the  sonp  witli  tlie  dessert  ? 

At  the  enti-ance  of  this  hall,  behind  a  screen,  are 
hooks  to  receive  outside  garments,  and  each  one 
hangs  up  his  paletot,  his  scarf,  or  his  plaid,  and  lays  off 
his  overslu^es.  But  it  was  not  cold,  and  in  the  open 
air  the  tliermometer  registered  48°  or  50°.  These 
minute  precautions  in  so  mild  a  temperature  astonislied 
me,  and  I  k)oked  out  to  see  whether  snow  had  not  al- 
ready whitened  tlie  I'oofs ;  but  they  were  only  cohjred 
by  the  pale  rosy  light  of  the  setting  sun. 

However,  there  \vere  double  windows  everywhere ; 
enormous  wood-piles  encumbered,  the  court-yards,  and. 
every  prejxii-ation  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  receiv- 
ing the  winter  in  good  style.  My  own  bedroom  was 
also  liermetically  closed  ;  between  one  sasli  and  the 
other  is  placed  a  layer  of  sand,  in  wliich  are  little  paper 
horns  filled  with  salt  designed  to  absorb  moisture  and 
prevent  the  frost  from  covering  the  panes  with  its 
silvery  foliage ;  copper  mouths,  like  the  openings  of 
Parisian  street  letter-boxes,  were  all  in  readiness  to 
blow  their  hot-air  blasts.  Wintei',  however,  seemed 
to  delay  ;  and  the  double  u'ind()\v  \\'as  sufficient  to 
maintain  in  the  room  an  agreeable  mildness  of  tempera- 
ture. The  only  thing  peculiar  in  tlie  furniture  of  my 
room,  was  one  of  those  innnense  sofas  covered  with 
wadded  leather,  that  you  meet  everywhere  in  Ilussia; 
which,  with  their  numerous  cushions,  are  more  comfort- 
able than  the  usually  very  poor  beds. 

After  dinner  1  went  out  without  a  guide  ;  as  usual, 
trusting  to  my  instinct  to  lind  the  way  hack.  A  watch- 
maker's dial  on  one  corner,  a  sentry-box  at  another, 
would  serve  as  landmarks. 

This  first  ]-andom  stroll  through  the  streets  of  a 
strange  and  long-drcamed-of  city,  is  one  of  the  kf»enest 
delights  of  the  travellci",  and  repays  him  liberally  for 
the  fatigues  of  the  jt)uruey.     Is  it  extra\-agance  to  say 


72  A  WINTER  IN  EUSSIA. 

that  niglit,  with  its  mingled  light  and  shade,  its  mys- 
tery, its  strange  power  of  niagnifj-ing  all  objects,  adds 
much  to  this  gratification  ?  The  eye  sees  but  in  part ; 
imagination  does  the  rest.  The  reality  is  not  yet  too 
sbai-ply  drawn ;  the  picture  is,  as  it  were,  blocked  in,  to 
be  finished  later  in  detail. 

Imagine  me  proceeding  slowly  along  the  sidewalk, 
and  o;oiiig  down  the  Prospekt  in  the  direction  of  the 
Adnuralty.  ISTow  I  looked  at  the  passers-by,  and  now 
at  the  br"illiantly  lighted  shops;  and  then  my  eye  ex- 
plored the  nnderground  regions,  which  reminded  mo  of 
the  cellars  in  Berlin  and  \]\e  "  tunnels  "  of  Hamburg. 
At  every  step,  I  beheld,  behind  the  elegant  windows,  a 
show  of  fruit  most  artistically  arranged  :  pine-apples, 
Malaga  grapes,  lemons,  pomegranates,  pears,  apples, 
plums,  water-melons.  They  are  as  fond  of  fruits  in 
Kussia  as  they  are  of  hon-hons  in  Germany  ;  the  luxury 
is  expensive,  and  all  the  more  fashionable  on  that  ac- 
count. Along  the  sidewalk  mujiks  offer  to  the  passers- 
by  green  ap])les  which  look  as  if  they  were  sour.  How- 
ever, it  must  be  that  they  findpnrchasers:  they  seem  to 
be  offered  for  sale  at  every  corner. 

This  first  reconnoissance  made,  I  returned  to  the 
hotel.  Children  perhaps  require  to  be  rocked  to  sleep ; 
but  grown  people  have  a  preference  for  stationaiy 
slumber;  and  for  three  nights  past  the  sea  had 
shaken  ns  about  so  thoroughly  in  our  steam  cradle,  that 
I,  for  one,  desired  a  more  stable  bed  ;  but  through  my 
dreams  the  motion  of  the  waves  still  made  itself  felt. 
1  have  noticed  this  often  before.  The  change  to  solid 
ground  is  not  so  prompt  a  remedy  as  one  might  supjiose 
for  the  miseries  caused  by  the  ever-changing  level  of 
the  watery  plain. 

In  the  morning  I  was  abroad  early  to  examine  by 
aid  of  sunshine  the  picture  which  the  vague  glimmer 
of  twilight  and  of  starlight  had  in  part  already  revealed 
to  me.  '  As  the  ISTewsky  Prospekt  is  in  a  sense  a  sum- 
mary of  St.  Petersburg,  you  will  suffer  me  to  give  you 


ST.   PETERSBURO.  73 

a  somewhat  lengthy  and  detailed  descn-iption,  wherehy 
yon  may  be  at  once  admitted  to  a  familiar  ac;r|naintance 
with  the  eity.  And  in  advance  I  bop^  you  to  forgive 
some  observations  that  may  seem  puerile  and  trivial. 
It  is  these  very  trifles,  neglected  as  too  humble  and  too 
easily  observed,  which  make  the  difference  between  one 
place  and  another,  and  certify  to  you  that  you  arc  not 
in  Piccadilly,  nor  in  the  Rue  Vivienne. 

The  Newsky  Prospekt  starts  from  the  Square  of  the 
Admiralty,  and  extends  as  far  as  the  convent  of  St. 
Alexander  Newsky,  a  distance  of  more  than  three  miles, 
where,  after  a  slight  curve,  it  ends.  Like  all  the  streets 
in  St.  Petersburg,  it  is  bread,  and  along  the  middle  of  the 
carriage-road  is  a  rough  stone  pavement  sloping  a  little 
from  each  side  to  the  gutter,  which  runs  directly  down 
the  centre.  On  either  side  a  zone  of  wooden  pavement 
accompanies  the  belt  of  fragments  of  granite ;  large 
paving-stones  form  the  sidewalk. 

The  spire  of  tlie  Admiralty,  which  resembles  the 
mast  of  a  ship  planted  in  the  roof  of  a  Grecian  temple, 
])roduces  a  flue  effect,  standing  as  it  does  at  the  end  of 
the  Newsky  Prospekt.  If  there  is  a  single  ra}^  of 
sunshine,  it  is  sent  back  from  that  gilded  spire,  a 
spangle  of  vivid  light,  amusing  the  eye  as  far  off  as  the 
spire  can  be  seen.  Two  neighboring  streets  have  the 
same  advantage  as  the  Newsky  Prospekt,  and  by  a 
skilful  combination  of  lines  show  the  same  glittering 
needle.  For  the  present,  however,  we  will  leave  the 
Admiralty  behind  us,  and  go  up  the  Prospekt  as  far  as 
the  Anitschkov  bridge ;  that  is  to  say,  through  the 
most  animated  and  fretpicnted  section  (^f  the  street. 
The  honsos  on  either  side  are  high  and  wide;  ])alaces,  or 
town-honses  of  the  nol)ility,  it  wonld  seem.  A  few,  the 
most  ancient,  recall  tlie  old  French  style  a  little  Italian- 
ized, and  present  quite  a  stately  combination  of  Mansart 
and  Bernini ;  Corinthian  pilasters,  cornices,  pediments, 
consoles,  voluted  circnlar  windows,  doors  with  gro- 
tesque ornaments,  and  the  lower  story  representing 
4 


74  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

hewn  stone.  Otiiers  present  decorations  in  the  style  of 
Louis  XV.,  and  elsewhere  the  classic  taste  of  the 
Empire  shows  the  even  line  of  its  columns  and  its 
triangular  pediments  in  white  upon  a  yellow  back- 
ground. The  most  recent  buildings  are  of  the  Anglo- 
German  style,  and  seem  to  have  taken  for  their  type 
those  stately  watering-place  hotels,  which,  in  litho- 
graphic views,  offer  temptation  to  travellers.  This 
ensemble — which  must  not  be  too  closely  examined,  for 
nothing  but  the  nse  of  stone  gives  value  to  the  execu- 
tion of  ornamental  work  in  preserving  the  direct 
imprint  of  the  artist's  hand — this  ensemble,  I  say,  forms 
an  admirable  picture,  to  which  the  name  Prospekt, 
which  this  street  bears  in  common  with  many  others, 
is  remarkably  well  suited  and  appropriate.  All  is  com- 
bined with  a  view  to  optical  effect,  and  the  city,  created 
at  a  stroke,  by  a  will  w^hich  knew  no  obstacle,  emerged, 
a  iiuished  whole,  from  the  marsh  it  now  covers,  like  a 
painted  scene  in  a  theatre  at  the  machinist's  whistle. 

If  the  Newsky  Prospekt  is  beautiful,  I  hasten  to  add 
that  it  turns  its  beauty  to  good  account.  At  once  the 
fashionable  street  and  the  busy  street,  its  palaces  and 
its  shops  alternate ;  nowhere,  except  perhaps  at  Berne, 
is  there  such  display  in  the  matter  of  signs.  It  is 
.carried  to  so  great  a  height  that  it  almost  makes  a 
modern  order  of  architecture,  to  be  added  to  the  five 
orders  of  Yignole.  Golden  letters  trace  their  light 
and  their  heavy  strokes  upon  azure  fields,  npon  panels 
of  black  or  red ;  they  are  cut  out  in  open-work,  they 
are  applied  to  the  window-glass,  are  repeated  at  every 
door,  profit  by  the  corners  of  streets,  curve  around 
arches,  extend  along  cornices,  take  advantage  of  the 
projections  of  padiezdas,  descend  basement  staircases, 
and  seek  in  every  possible  way  to  compel  the  atten- 
tion of  the  passer-by.  But  perliaps  Russian  is  to  you 
an  unknown  tongue,  and  the  form  of  these  characters 
signifies  nothing  more  to  you  than  an  ornamental  de-- 
sign,  a  pattern  for  embroidery  1     Ilere,  close  beside  it, 


ST.   PETERSBURG.  75 

is  the  French  or  German  translation.  Still  yon  do  not 
understand  ?  The  courteous  sign  grants  you  pardon  for 
not  knowing  any  one  of  tlie  thi-ee  languages ;  it  even 
supposes  that  you  are  completely  illiterate ;  and  it  de- 
picts, to  the  life,  what  is  for  sale  in  the  shop  to  Avhicli 
it  calls  your  attention.  Golden  grapes,  carved  or 
painted,  indicate  the  wine-merchant ;  near  by,  hams, 
sausages,  neats'  tongues,  boxes  of  caviare  designate  a 
provision-shop ;  boots,  hrodeqiiins,  overshoes,  naively 
depicted,  say  to  the  feet  that  cannot  read  :  "  Enter 
here,  and  you  shall  be  shod;"  gloves,  in  high  relief, 
speak  an  idiom  intelligible  to  all.  Mantles  and  dresses 
there  are,  too,  surmounted  by  a  hat  or  a  bonnet, 
to  which  tlie  artist  has  judged  it  needless  to  add  the 
face;  pianos  invite  you  to  try  their  painted  keys.  All 
this  is  amusing  to  the  loiterer,  and  has  its  character. 

The  first  object  which  attracts  the  eye  of  a  Parisian, 
upon  entering  the  Newsky  Prospekt,  is  the  name  of 
Daziaro,  the  dealer  in  engravings,  whose  Russian  sign 
adorns  the  Italian  boulevard  in  Paris;  and  on  the 
right,  going  up,  you  are  tempted  to  stop  at  JBeggrow's, 
the  Desforges  of  St.  Petersburg,  who  sells  artists' 
materials,  and  always  has  some  water-color  or  oil-paint- 
ing in  his  window. 

This  Venice  of  the  North,  built  on  its  twelve  islands, 
is  cut  by  numerous  canals.  Three  of  these  cross, 
without  interrupting,  the  Newsky  Prospekt:  the  Moika, 
the  Catherine,  and^  farther  on,  the  Ligawa,  and  Fon- 
tanka  canals.  The  Moika  is  crossed  by  the  Police 
bridge,  wliose'  salient  curve  repeats  tlie  arch  too  exactly, 
and  forces  the  rapid  droschkys  to  slacken  their  gait. 
The  two  other  canals  are  crossed  by  the  bridges  of 
Kasan  and  of  Anitschkov.  In  traversing  these  before 
the  season  of  ice,  the  eye  explores  with  pleasure 
the  gap  which  these  waters,  coniined  by  granite  quays 
and  furrowed  by  boats,  open  between  the  buildings. 

Lessing,  the  author  of  Nathan  the  Wise,  would  have 
delighted  in  the  Newsky  Prospekt,  for  his  ideas  of  re- 


76  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

li^^ious  toleration  are  practised  here  in  the  most  liberal 
fashion ;  there  is  scarcely  any  confession  which  has  not, 
in  this  bioad  street,  its  church  or  temple  where  its  rites 
are  freely  practised. 

At  the  left,  as  we  are  going,  is  the  Dutch  chnrch,  the 
Lutheran  place  of  worship,  the  Catholic  church  of  St. 
Catherine,  and  an  Armenian  church,  not  to  mention, 
in  adjoining  streets,  the  Finnish  chapel,  and  temples  of 
other  reformed  sects  ;  at  the  right,  the  Russian  cathedral 
of  Our  Lady  of  Kazan,  another  Greek  church,  and  a 
chapel  of  some  old  faith,  called  Starovertzi,  or  Ilosskol- 
niki. 

AW  these  houses  of  God,  except  Our  Lady  of  Kazan, 
wliich  interrupts  the  alignment,  its  elegant  semi-circular 
colonnade,  imitated  from  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  curving 
around  an  extensive  square,  are  intermixed  fainiliarly 
with  the  lionses  of  men  ;  their  fa9ades  are  only  slightly 
set  back  from  the  street ;  they  present  themselves  with- 
out mystery  to  the  devotion  of  the  passer-by,  only  dis- 
tinguished by  the  special  style  of  their  architecture. 
Each  church  is  surrounded  by  immense  estates,  conceded 
by  the  czars ;  the  ground  is  now  covered  by  elegant 
structures,  which  are  a  source  of  great  revenue  to  the 
church. 

Continuing  our  walk  we  reach  the  tower  of  tlie 
Douma,  a  kind  of  watch-tower  for  tire,  like  the  Seras- 
kier  in  Constantinople;  npon  its  summit  is  a  signal  ap- 
paratus, where  red  and  black  balls  indicate  the  street  in 
wliich  lire  has  broken  out. 

Near  by,  on  the  same  side,  is  the  Gastiny-Dvor,  a 
great  square  building  witli  two  stories  of  galleries,  re- 
minding me  a  little  of  the  Palais-Royal,  containing 
shops  of  every  description  and  of  lavish  display.  Then 
comes  the  Imperial  Library,  with  curved  fa9ade  and 
Ionic  columns,  and  then,  the  Anitschkov  palace,  which 
gives  its  name  to  the  neighboring  bridge,  with  its  four 
bronze  horses,  held  in  by  grooms,  and  rearing  upon 
their  granite  pedestals. 


ST.   PETERSBURG.  77 

"  This  is  a  fair  sketcli  of  the  Newsky  Prospekt ;  but," 
does  somebody  say,  '' your  picture  is  like  that  of  a  Turk- 
ish artist :  th(3re  are  no  people  in  it ! "  Wait  a  little, 
please;  I  am  about  to  enliven  my  view,  and  till  it  with 
lio-ures.  The  writer,  less  fortunate  than  the  painter,  can 
present  objects  only  successively. 

From  one  o'clock  till  three,  the  crowd  is  greatest; 
beside  those  who  walk  rapidly  along,  going  about  their 
affairs,  there  are  many  whose  sole  object  is  to  see,  to  be 
seen,  and  to  take  a  little  exercise  ;  their  coupes  or 
droschkys  await  them  at  a  designated  spot,  or  follow 
them  along,  in  case  a  sudden  fancy  should  take  them  to 
return  to  the  carriage. 

You  distinguish  first  the  offi(;crs  of  the  Guard,  in  gray 
capote,  a  strap  on  the  shoulder  indicating  the  rank  ; 
they  are  almost  all  decorated  with  stars  and  crosses,  and 
they  wear  the  helmet  or  the  military  undress  cap  ;  then 
you  observe  the  tchinovniks,  or  officials,  in  long  red- 
higotes  plaited  at  the  hack,  and  gathered  in  by  the  belt; 
they  wear,  for  a  hat,  a  dark-colored  cap  with  cockade  ; 
young  men  in  general,  who  are  neither  in  the  army  nor 
in  the  civil  service,  have  paletots  trimmed  with  a  fur 
whose  price  astonishes  strangers  and  would  alarm  our 
men  of  fashion.  These  overcoats,  of  the  finest  cloth,  are 
lined  with  marten  or  nniskrat,  and  have  collars  of 
beaver  costing  from  one  to  three  hundred  rubles,  the 
price  varying  in  proportion  to  the  fineness  of  the  fur, 
its  depth  of'  color,  and  the  long  white  hairs  that  it  lias 
retained.  A  paletot  worth  a  thonsand  rubles  is  not  un- 
usual ;  some  even  cost  more  than  this  ;  it  is  a  Russian 
luxury  of  which  we  know  little  in  Paris,  The  proverb 
"  Tell  me  your  associates,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  you 
are,"  might  have  a  Northern  version  in  this  wise:  "Tell 
me  what  furs  you  wear,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  much 
you  are  worth."  A  man  is  valued  according  to  his 
pelisse. 

"What!" — do  you  say,  as  you  read  this  description, — 
"  furs  so  early  as  this,  the  begimiing  of  October,  in  a 


^3  A  WINTER  m  BdSSIA. 

temperature  exceptionally  mild,  -whicli  must  seem  really 
spring-like  to  a  man  of  the  North  !  "  Yes ;  the  Russians 
are  not  such  as  a  vain  people  suppose.  It  is  imagined, 
that,  hardened  by  this  climate,  they  delight,  like  the  po- 
lar bear,  in  ice  and  snow.  No  mistake  could  be  greater; 
on  the  contrary,  they  are  extremely  susceptible  to  cold, 
and  take  precautions  against  the  least  inclemency  of  the 
season,  which  strangers,  on  their  first  visit,  neglect, — 
sure  to  adopt  them  "later,  after  they  have  been  ill.  If 
you  see  any  one  pass  lightly  clad,  by  his  olive  skin  and 
iiis  luxuriant  black  beard  and  whiskers  you  will  recog- 
nize an  Italian,  a  man  of  some  southern  climate,  whose 
blood  has  not  yet  been  chilled.  "  Take  your  wadded 
paletot,  put  on  your  overshoes,  tie  a  scarf  round  your 
neck  ;  " — they  said  to  me.  "  But  the  thermometer  is  at 
45°."  Very  true,  but  here,  as  in  Madrid,  there  is  a  little 
wind,  that  would  scarcely  blow  out  a  candle,  that  can 
extinguish  a  man's  life.  In  Madrid  I  have  worn  a  cloak 
-with  tlie  thermometer  at  50^,  and  I  had  no  reason  to 
refuse  to  put  on  a  winter  paletot  in  the  autumn  in  St. 
Petersburg.  It  is  wise  to  do  at  Rome  what  the  Romans 
do.  The 'paletot  lined  with  light  fur  is  the  suitable 
thing  then  for  autumn ;  as  soon  as  the  snow  comes, 
you  wrap  yourself  in  your  pelisse,  and  do  not  lay  it 
aside  till  May. 

The  Yenetian  women  never  go  out  save  in  a  gondola; 
the  Russian  only  in  a  carriage  :  scarcely  are  they  w'ill- 
ing  to  walk  a  few  steps  along  the  Newsky  Prospekt. 
Their  bonnets  and  their  fashions  in  dress  come  from 
Paris.  Blue  seems  to  be  their  favorite  color,  and  it 
goes  well  with  their  fair  complexions  and  blonde  hair. 
Of  the  elegance  of  their  figures  it  is  impossible  to  judge, 
at  least  in'the  street,  for  ample  pelisses  of  black  satin  or 
some  woollen  material  with  large  plaids,  wrap  them 
from  head  to  heel.  Coquetry  gives  way  to  considera- 
tions of  climate,  and  the  prettiest  feet  are  unhesitatingly 
buried  in  enormous  chaus.ntres  ;  an  Andalusian  WT)ukl 
rather  die  ;    but  at  St.  Petersburg  the  phrase  "  to  take 


ST.   PETEBSBURO.  70 

cold  "  is  answerable  for  everything.  These  pelisses  are 
trimmed  with  sable,  Siberian  blue  fox,  and  other  furs, 
of  prices  most  extravagant  to  us  of  the  South  ;  Inxui-y 
goes  to  an  unheard-of  degree  in  this  direction.  If  the 
rigor  of  the  sky  forbids  to  women  anything  more  than  a 
shapeless  sack,  be  content;  that  sack  will  be  made  to 
cost  as  much  as  the  most  elegant  toilette. 

At  the  end  of  lifty  paces,  these  languid  beauties  re- 
turn to  their  carriages  and  go  to  pay  visits,  or  drive 
homeward.  What  I  have  said  refers  to  women  in 
society,  that  is  to  say,  women  of  rank ;  others,  though 
equally  rich  and  beautiful,  are  more  unpretending:  in 
llussia,  rank  takes  the  precedence  at  every  point.  Ilere 
are  Germans,  wives  of  business  men,  to  be  recognized 
by  the  Teutonic  type,  the  gentle,  dreamy  air,  the  neat 
dress  of  more  simple  material ;  they  wear  talmas  and 
basquines  and  mantles  of  shaggy  cloth.  Here  are 
French  women,  in  loud  toilettes,  outside  garment  of 
velvet,  hat  covering  all  the  top  of  the  head,  suggestive 
of  Mabille  and  tlie  Folies-jSIouvelles,  here  on  the  side- 
walk of  the  Newsky  Prospekt. 

You  might  possibly  till  this  moment  have  believed 
3'ourself  on  the  boulevard,  or  the  Rue  Vivienne  ; — pa- 
tience a  moment ;  you  sluill  see  truly  Russian  types. 
Observe  this  man  in  blue  caftan  buttoned  at  the  corner 
like  a  Chinese  robe,  gathered  upon  the  hi])sinto  regular 
folds,  and  exquisitely  neat;  this  is  an  artelchtchik,  or 
tradesman's  servant ;  a  Hat  cap  with  a  visor  completes 
his  costume  ;  he  wears  the  hair  and  beard  parted  like 
the  pictures  of  Cln-ist ;  his  face  is  honest  and  intelligent. 
He  carries  bills,  collects  money,  and  fulfils  commissions 
of  various  kinds  demanding  integrity. 

Just  as  you  are  lamenting  the  absence  of  the  pictur- 
esque, a  nurse  in  the  old  national  dress  passes  at  your 
side  ;  she  is  coiffed  witli  the  ])ovc)'inik,  a  kind  of  bonnet 
in  the  shape  of  a  diadem,  of  red  or  blue  velvet,  with 
gold  embroidery.  The  povoinik  is  open  or  closed ; 
being  open,  it  designates  a  young  girl ;  closed,  a  matron ; 


80  4  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

that  worn  by  nurses  has  a  crown,  and  from  beneath  the 
povoinik  falls  the  hair  in  two  long  braids.  With  girls, 
the  hair  is  gathered  into  a  single  tress.  The  robe  of 
wadded  damask,  with  a  waist  just  beneath  the  arms,  and 
a  very  short  skirt,  resembles  a  tunic,  and  shows  a  second 
skirt  of  more  ordinary  material.  The  tunic  is  I'ed  or 
blue,  matching  the  povoinik,  and  is  trimmed  with  broad 
gold  galoon.  This  costume,  genuinely  Russian,  has 
style  and  elegance  when  worn  by  a  handsome  woman. 
The  grand  gala  dress  at  court  festivities  is  made  accord- 
ing to  this  pattern,  and,  lavishly  ornamented  with  gold 
and  with  diamonds,  it  adds  not  a  little  to  their  splendor. 

In  Spain  it  is  also  a  mark  of  elegance  to  have  about 
the  place  a  nurse  wearing  the  costume  of  the  imsiega. 
I  used  greatly  to  admire  these  handsome  peasant  women 
in  the  Prado  or  the  Calle  d'Alcala,  vx'ith  their  vests  of 
black  velvet  and  scarlet  petticoats  with  gold  stripes.  It 
would  seem  that  civilization,  feeling  the  national  stamp 
grow  faint,  desires  to  imprint  on  its  children  the  memory 
of  it,  by  bringing  up  from  some  distant  village  a  woman 
in  the  ancient  dress,  to  be  to  them,  as  it  were,  the  image 
of  the  mother-country. 

Speaking  of  nurses  suggests  children  ;  the  transition  is 
easy.  The  Russian  babies  are  very  pretty  in  their  little 
blue  caftans,  under  broad-brimmed  hats  like  sombreros^ 
adorned  with  the  tip  of  a  peacock's  feather. 

There  are  always  some  dvorniks,  or  concierges,  upon 
the  sidewalk,  sweeping  in  summer,  clearing  off  the  ice 
in  winter.  They  are  seldom  in  their  lodges,  if  such 
they  have  in  the  Parisian  sense  of  the  word ;  they  are 
awake  all  night,  and  must  answer  the  door-bell  in  per- 
son whenever  it  rings  ;  they  never  dispute  that  it  is 
tlieir  business  to  open  tlie  door  at  three  in  the  morning 
cpiite  as  much  as  at  three  in  the  afternoon.  They  sleep 
anyvvhere,  and  never  undress.  They  Avear  blue  shirts, 
loose  trousers,  and  enormous  boots,  exchanging  this  cos- 
tume at  the  first  apporach  of  cold  weather  for  the 
sheepskin,  worn  wrong  side  out. 


ST.  PETERSBURG.  81 

Now  and  then,  a  boy  with  a  sort  of  white  apron  tied 
round  his  waist  by  a  strinp^,  emei'ges  from  the  shop  of 
some  mechanic  or  artisan,  and  runs  across  tlie  street  to 
a  neighboring  house  or  shop  ;  this  is  a  malchtchik,  or  ap- 
prentice, doing  an  errand  for  his  master. 

Tlie  picture  would  still  be  incomplete,  if  1  did  not 
add  some  dozens  of  nmjiks,  always  in  greasy  touloupes, 
who  sell  apples  or  cakes,  carry  along  provisions  in  kar- 
zines  (a  kiiul  of  basket  made  of  bi'aided  pine  shavings), 
mend  the  wooden  pavements  with  hatchets,  or,  in  groups 
of  four  or  six,  advance  with  measured  pace,  bearing 
upon  their  heads  a  table,  a  sofa,  or  a  piano. 

You  will  rarely  see  any  female  mujiks;  possibly  they 
remain  in  the  country  upon  the  estates  i^f  their  masters, 
possibly  arc  employed  in-doors  in  domestic  labors.  The 
few  whom  we  meet  have  nothing  specially  characteristic 
about  them.  A  kerchief  kn(jtted  under  the  chin  covers 
the  head  ;  a  wadded  overcoat  of  some  cheap  matei'ial, 
neutral  color,  and  doubtful  cleanliness,  descends  as  far 
as  the  knee  and  shows  a  petticoat  of  printed  calico,  with 
coarse  felt  stockings  and  wooden  shoes.  They  are  not 
pretty,  but  they  have  a  sad  and  gentle  air  ;  no  flash  of 
envy  lights  up  their  faded  eyes  at  the  sight  of  a  lady  in 
her  fine  attire  ;  coquetry  seems  unknown  to  them.  They 
accept  their  infei'iority,— which  no  French  woman  ever 
does,  be  her  position  as  humble  as  it  may. 

Further,  I  notice  the  comparatively  small  number  of 
women  in  the  streets  of  St.  Petersburg.  As  in  oriental 
countries,  only  men  seem  to  have  the  privilege  of  being 
out  of  doors.  In  Germany,  it  is  quite  difterent ;  there 
the  feminine  population  are  always  in  the  street. 

I  have  as  yet  filled  with  figures  the  sidewalks  only; 
the  roadway  presents  a  spectacle  not  less  animated  and 
interesting.  There  fiows  an  endless  stream  of  carriages 
in  the  most  rapid  motion,  and  to  cross  the  Prospekt  is  a 
task  not  less  perilous  than  to  go  from  one  side  to  the 
other  of  the  boulevard  between  the  Rue  Drouot  and  the 
Rue  Richelieu.  It  is  very  unusual  to  walk  in  St.  Peters- 
4* 


82  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

burg;  you  takeadroscliky  if  the  distance  be  ever  so  short. 
A  carriage  is  considered  as  an  object,  not  of  luxury, 
but  of  prime  necessity.  Small  tradesmen,  clei'ks  with 
moderate  salaries,  economize  in  every  way,  and  stint 
themselves  in  order  to  keep  a  careta,  droschky,  or  sledge. 
To  go  on  foot  is  a  kind  of  disgrace  ;  a  Russian  without 
a  carriage  is  like  an  Arab  without  a  horse.  People 
might  doubt  his  station,  might  take  him  for  a  mecht- 
chanine,  for  a  serf. 

The  droschky,  or  drojky,  as  it  is  spelled  in  Russia,  is, 
par  excellence,  the  national  vehicle;  there  is  nothing 
like  it  in  any  other  country,  and  it  merits  particular  de- 
scription. At  this  very  moment,  here  is  one  drawn  up 
at  the  sidewalk,  awaiting  its  master,  M'ho  is  paying  a 
visit  within ;  it  seems  to  be  here  expressly  to  have  its 
picture  taken.  This  is  a  fashionable  drojky,  belonging  to 
a  young  man  of  rank  who  is  dainty  about  his  ecpiipages. 
The  drojky  is  a  very  low,  small,  open  carriage ;  it  has 
four  wheels,  those  of  the  rear  not  larger  than  the  front 
wheels  of  a  victoria ;  those  of  the  front,  the  size  of  a 
wheelbarrow.  Four  circular  springs  support  the  body 
of  the  carriage,  which  has  two  seats,  one  for  the  coach- 
man, the  other  for  the  master.  This  latter  seat  is  round, 
and  in  elegant  drojkys  admit  but  a  single  person;  in 
others,  tliere  is  room  for  two,  but  so  narrow  that  you 
are  obliged  to  pass  3^our  arm  about  your  companion, 
lady  or  gentleman.  On  either  side  two  fenders  of  var- 
nished leather  curve  above  the  wheels,  and  meeting  on 
the  side  of  the  little  carriage,  which  has  no  doors,  form 
a  step  coming  within  a  few  inches  of  the  ground. 

The  color  of  the  drojky  is  almost  always  about  the 
same.  It  is  deep  maroon  with  trinnnings  of  sky-blue, 
or  it  is  Itussian-green  with  fillets  of  ap[)le-green  ;  but 
whatever  the  color  selected,  the  shade  is  always  very 
deep. 

The  well-staffed  seat  is  covered  with  leather  or  cloth 
of  some  dark  tint.  A  Persian  or  a  moquette  rug  is 
under  the  feet.     There  are  no  lanterns  to  the  drojky, 


ST.  PETERSBURG.  83 

and  it  spins  along  by  night  without  the  two  stars  sliin- 
ing  in  front.  It  is  the  ])usines8  of  the  pedestrian  to 
keep  out  of  the  way,  when  the  driver  cries :  "  Take 
care ! " 

Tiiere  is  nothing  prettier,  more  dainty,  lighter,  than 
this  frail  equipage,  which  you  could  pick  np  and  carry 
under  your  arm.  It  seems  to  have  come  from  Queen 
Mab's  own  carriage-makers. 

Harnessed  to  this  nutshell,  with  which  he  could  easily 
leap  a  fence,  stands,  impatient  and  nervous,  and  champ- 
ing his  bits,  a  magnificent  horse,  which  may  have  cost 
six  thousand  rubles,  a  horse  of  the  celebrated  Orlov 
breed,  an  iron-gray,  high-stepping  animal,  the  luxuriant 
silvery  mane  and  tail  powdered  with  glittering  specks. 
He  moves  restlessly  about,  curves  his  neck  till  his  head 
touches  his  chest,  and  paws  the  ground,  held  in  with  diffi- 
culty by  the  muscular  coachman.  There  is  nothing  on 
him  between  the  shafts,  no  tangle  of  harness  to  conceal 
his  beauty.  A  few  light  threads,  mere  leather  strings 
not  half  an  inch  in  width,  and  caught  together  by  little 
silvered  or  gilt  ornaments,  play  over  him  without  being 
an  annoyance  to  him  or  taking  anything  from  the  per- 
fection of  his  shape.  Tlie  mountings  of  the  head-stall 
are  encrusted  with  little  metallic  scales,  and  there  ara 
no  blinders  to  conceal  a  liorse's  gi'eate:^t  beauty,  his  di- 
lating, lustrous  eyeballs.  Two  little  silver  chains  cross 
gracefully  upon  his  forehead  ;  the  bit  is  covered  with 
leather,  lest  the  cold  of  the  iron  should  harm  his  deli- 
cate mouth,  and  a  simple  snafHo  is  all  that  is  needed  to 
guide  the  noble  creature.  The  collar,  very  light  and 
simple,  is  the  only  part  of  the  harness  which  attaches 
him  to  the  carriage,  for  they  use  no  traces.  The  shafts 
go  directly  to  the  collar,  fastened  to  it  by  straps  carried 
back  and  forth  many  times,  and  twisted,  but  having 
neither  buckles  nor  rings  nor  metal  clasps  of  any  kind. 
At  the  point  where  the  collar  and  the  shafts  are  fastened 
together,  are  also  fixed  by  means  of  straps  the  ends  of 
a  iB.exiblc  wooden  arch  which  rises  above  the  hole's  back 


8i  A  WINTER  m  nzfssiA. 

like  a  basket-handle  whose  extremities  are  brought  quite 
near  together.  This  arch,  called  the  donga,  which  leans 
a  little  backward,  serves  to  keep  the  collar  and  the  shafts 
apai-t,  so  that  they  do  not  hurt  the  animal,  and  also  to 
suspend  the  reins  from  a  hook. 

The  shafts  are  not  attached  to  the  front  of  the  drojky, 
but  to  the  axle  of  the  forward  wheels,  which  extends 
beyond  the  hub,  passing  through  it,  and  kept  in  place 
by  an  exterior  peg.  For  more  strength,  a  trace  placed 
on  the  outside  goes  to  the  knot  of  straps  at  the  collar. 
This  style  of  harness  makes  it  exceedingly  easy  to  turn, 
the  traction  operating  upon  the  ends  of  the  axle  as  upon 
a  lever. 

This  is  doubtless  very  minute ;  but  vague  descriptions 
describe  nothing,  and  possibly  the  lover  of  horses  in 
Paris  or  London  will  not  be  sorry  to  know  how  a  fash- 
ionable drojky  is  built  and  equipped  in  St.  Petersburg. 

I  have  said  nothing  of  the  coachman,  but  a  character- 
istic personage,  and  abounding  in  local  color,  is  he  ! 
Coiffed  with  a  low-crowned  hat,  whose  brim  is  turned 
up  in  wings  on  either  side,  and  projects  over  the  fore- 
head and  the  back  of  the  neck ;  clad  in  a  long  blue  or 
green  caftan,  which  is  closed  under  the  left  arm  with 
•  five  silver  clasps  or  buttons,  belted  in  at  the  waist,  and 
spreading  in  folds  over  the  hips ;  his  muscular  neck 
rising  from  his  cravat,  his  enormous  beard  spreading 
upon  his  breast,  his  arms  extended  and  holding  one  rein 
in  each  hand,  he  certainly  has,  it  must  be  owned,  a 
stately  and  majestic  air, — he  is  quite  master  of  the  situ- 
ation !  The  stouter  he  is,  the  higher  wages  he  can  com- 
mand ;  if  he  is  thin  when  he  enters  your  service,  and 
presently  should  grow  fat,  he  will  require  increase  of 
pay. 

As  they  drive  holding  the  reins  with  both  hands,  the 
use  of  the  whip  is  unknown.  The  horses  are  animated 
or  restrained  by  the  voice  only.  Like  the  S])anish 
muleteer,  the  Russian  coachman  addresses  compliments 
or  invectives  to  his  beasts.     At  one  time  the  most  ten- 


8T.   PETEESDURO.  85 

dor  and  cliarmino;  diminutives ;  at  another,  shockinf^Iy 
bud  langiui<;o,  whi(;h  niodoru  decorinn  forbids  me  to 
translate.  If  the  horse  slackens  his  pace,  or  cjoes  wrong 
in  any  way,  a  little  slap  with  the  reins  on  his  back  is 
enough  to  bring  him  right.  The  coachmen  warn  you  to 
get  out  of  the  way,  crying  "Bcriguiss  !  beriguiss  !"  If 
you  do  not  obey  qui(;kly  enough,  they  say,  accentuating 
each  syllable  forcibly,  "  Beriguiss — sta — eh  I  "  It  is  a 
matter  of  pride  with  coaclnnen  belonging  to  good  fam- 
ilies never  to  raise  the  voice. 

But  our  3'oung  gentleman  has  finished  his  visit,  and 
enters  his  drojky.  The  horse  sets  off  at  a  great  pace, 
stepping  so  high  that  he  touches  his  nose  with  his  knees ; 
he  dances  along,  you  might  say,  but  this  coquettish  gait 
takes  nothing  from  his  speed. 

Sometimes  another  horse,  called  a  pristiajka  (an  off- 
horse),  is  harnessed  to  the  drojky  ;  he  is  attached  oidy  by 
a  single  rein,  and  gallops  while  his  mate  trots.  The  ditfi- 
culty  is  to  maintain  these  two  equal  and  dissimilar  gaits. 
The  second  horse,  who  appears  to  caper  alongside,  ac- 
companying his  con>panion  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  it, 
has  something  gay,  free,  and  graceful  about  him  which 
lias  n.o  counterpart  elsewhere. 

The  hired  drojkys  are  much  the  same  as  those  I  have 
been  describing,  though  somewhat  less  elegant  in  shaj^e 
and  fresh  in  decoration  ;  they  are  driven  by  a  coach- 
man whose  bine  caftan  is  more  or  less  neat,  who  carries 
his  number  stamjxKl  on  a  copper  medal  suspended  by  a 
leather  string  and  habitually  thrown  back  over  his  shoul- 
der, so  that  the  fare,  during  the  drive,  may  have  the 
number  of  the  vehicle  constantly  before  his  eyes,  and 
may  remember  it  in  case  of  need.  The  mode  of  har- 
nessing is  the  same,  and  the  little  Ukraine  horse,  though 
not  of  so  good  stock,  goes  quite  as  well.  There  is  also 
a  long  drojky,  which  is  more  ancient  and  more  national. 
It  is  only  a  bench,  covered  with  cloth,  and  carried  u[)on 
four  wheels,  which  you  must  bestride,  unless  you  take  it 
sideways,  as  a  woman  sits  on  horseback.     The  drojkys 


SG  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

drive  np  and  down,  or  stand,  at  corners  of  streets  or 
squares,  before  wooden  horse-troughs  which  contain  hay 
or  oats.  At  any  hour  of  day  or  night,  in  whatever  part 
of  the  city  you  may  be,  it  is  enough  to  cry  out,  "  Isvoch- 
tchik  !  "  two  or  three  times,  to  bring  to  the  spot,  on  a 
gallop,  some  little  vehicle, — come  from  one  knows  not 
what  quarter. 

The  coupes,  coaches,  and  phaetons  which  are  perpetu- 
ally driving  up  and  down  the  Newsky  Prospekt,  have  no 
i;;pecial  peculiarity  of  appearance.  They  seem,  in  gen- 
eral, to  be  of  English  or  Viennese  manufacture.  The 
horses  are  frequently  superb  and  very  fast.  The  coach- 
man wears  the  caftan,  and  sometimes  beside  him  ig 
seated  a  kind  of  soldier,  whose  copper  helmet  has  a  ball 
on  its  point,  instead  of  a  flame,  as  have  the  real  soldiers. 
These  men  wear  a  gray  cloak,  the  collar  edged  with  red 
or  blue  bands,  indicating  the  rank  of  their  master,  gen- 
eral or  colonel.  The  privilege  of  having  a  chasseur  be- 
longs only  to  the  carriages  of  an  embassy.  This  equi- 
page w^ith  four  horses,  having  a  groom  standing  at  the 
back,  clad  in  ancient  livery,  and  holding  in  his  hand  a 
tall,  straight  whip,  is  that  of  the  archbishop,  and,  as  it 
passes,  everybody  salutes. 

Amid  this  whirl  of  elegant  carriages,  not  a  few  very 
primitive  carts  make  their  appearance  ;  the  rudest  rus- 
ticity is  contiguous  to  the  highest  civiliza.tion.  This  con- 
trast is  frequent  in  Russia.  Rospouskys  made  of  two 
beams  slung  on  axles,  the  wheels  kept  in  place  by  pieces 
of  wood  resting  against  the  hubs,  and  supported  by  the 
sides  of  the  rude  vehicle,  graze  the  rapid  phaeton  glitter- 
ing with  varnish.  The  jjrinciple  of  the  harnessing  is 
the  same  as  with  the  drojky.  Only  a  larger  arch,  of 
grotesque  colors,  re])laces  the  light  bow  with  its  graceful 
curve  ;  ropes  ai"e  substituted  for  the  fine  leather  straps, 
and  a  mujik  in  his  touloupe  or  coarse  tunic  is  crouched 
among  the  bales  and  boxes.  As  to  the  horse,  all  brist- 
Ihig  with  a  coat  tliat  has  never  known  the  curry-comb,  he 
shakes,  as  he  goes,  a  dishevelled  mane  that  hangs  almost 


8T.  PETERSBURG.  87 

to  the  ground.  Ilonsc  furniture  is  moved  with  teams  of 
this  kind.  They  enlarge  them  with  planks,  and  chairs  and 
tables  travel  about,  their  logs  in  the  air,  held  in  place  by 
roi)es.  At  a  little  distance,  a  hay-stack  seems  to  be  mov- 
ing off  alone,  drawn  by  a  wretched  nag  who  is  almost 
hidden  under  it.  A  tun  full  of  water  goes  along  slowly 
by  the  same  process.  A  telega  passes  at  full  speed,  i-e- 
gardless  of  the  shocks  its  springless  axles  may  inflict 
upon  the  officer  who  sits  within.  How  far  are  they  go- 
ing ?  A  thousand  miles  or  more — to  the  Caucasus  or 
to  Thibet,  ])erhaps.  No  matter  ;  but  be  sure  of  tliis,  the 
light  cart,  for  it  is  nothing  better,  will  go  at  headlong 
pace  all  the  way.  Provided  the  two  front  wheels  and 
the  driver's  seat  arrive  in  safety,  nobody  will  complain. 

At  St.  Petersburg  you  will  never  see  those  heavy 
wains  which  five  or  six  elephantine  horses,  scourged  l)y 
the  whip  of  a  brutal  driver,  can  scarcely  move.  The 
loads  are  very  light,  speed  rather  than  draught  being  re- 
quired of  the  horses.  All  loads  which  can  be  broken  up 
are  distributed  among  several  teams  instead  of  being 
heaped  on  one,  as  with  us  ;  they  move  along  in  company 
and  form  caravans,  recalling,  in  the  midst  of  a  great 
city,  the  habits  of  locomotion  of  the  desert. 

Every  civilized  city  owes  itself  omnibuses;  there 
are  a  few  running  from  the  Newsky  Prospekt  to  the 
more  remote  portions  of  the  city  ;  they  have  usually 
three  horses.  However,  the  preference  is  generally 
given  to  drojkys,  for  the  fare  is  not  high,  while  they 
M'ill  take  you  whither  you  please.  The  long  drojky  costs 
lifteen  kopecks  the  course  ;  the  round,  twentj' :  some- 
where from  twelve  to  sixteen  cents.  It  is  not  dear ;  a 
man  who  walks  must  be  very  poor,  or  very  economical. 

\)\\i  it  is  growing  dark ;  people  arc  hurrying  liome  to 
dinner,  the  carriages  disperse,  and  from  the  flre-tower 
is  lifted  the  luminous  ball  that  gives  the  signal  for  gas- 
liiz-htino-.     Let  us  cro  in. 


VIT. 

WINTEE. — THE   NEVA. 

WITIIIjS^  a  few  days  the  temperature  has  grown 
perceptibly  colder.  We  have  had  a  frost  every 
night,  and  the  north-east  wind  has  swe])t  away  the  last 
red  leaves  in  the  Admiralty  Square.  V/inter,  although 
tardy  for  this  climate,  is  at  last  on  his  way  from  the 
polar  regions,  and  by  the  shudder  of  all  nature  we  are 
made  conscious  of  his  approach.  Nervous  people  feel 
that  vague  discomfort  which  is  caused  to  delicate 
organizations  by  the  presence  of  snow  in  the  air,  and 
the  isvochtchiks — who  have  no  nerves,  it  is  true,  but 
who  possess,  by  way  of  compensation,  an  atmospheric 
instinct  infallible  as  that  of  the  animal — raise  their 
noses  to  this  sky  blurred  with  one  broad,  yellowish- 
gray  cloud,  and  gladly  make  ready  their  sledges.  Still 
the  snow  does  not  come,  and  people  accost  one 
another  with  critical  observations  upon  the  weather, 
but  in  a  style  quite  different  from  that  in  which  the 
Philistines  of  other  coimtries  utter  their  meteorological 
commoni)laces.  At  St.  Petersburg  they  complain  that 
the  weather  is  not  severe  enough,  and,  looking  at  the 
thermometer,  they  say :  "  How's  this !  only  five  or  six 
degrees  below  the  freezing-point  !  Decidedly,  climates 
are  becoming  unsettled  ! "  And  old  people  tell  you 
about  those  fine  v\^inters  vv'hen  they  used  to  enjoy  a  tem- 
])erature  of  from  25^^  to  35°  below  zero  steadily,  from 
October  to  May. 

One  morning,  however,  on  raising  my  window-shade, 
I  saw  throuirh  the  double  triass,  humid  with  nocturnal 
exhalations,  a  roof  of  dazzling  whiteness  against  a  pale 
blue  sky,  across  which  shot  the  slanting  rays  of  the  sun, 


WINTER.— THE  NEVA.  89 

o-ildint^  a  few  rosy  clouds,  and  some  little  feathers  of 
yellowish  smoke.  Salient  portions  of  the  palace  oppo- 
site were  shari)ly  outlined  with  silver,  lilcc  those  draw- 
ini^s  on  tinted  paper  that  are  bri;j;litencd  with  water- 
color  touches  of  white  ;  and  over  all  the  G:round  was 
spread,  like  wadding,  a  thick  layer  of  virgin  snow, 
where  there  was  as  yet  no  imprint,  save  from  the 
starred  feet  of  the  pigeons,  quite  as  numerous  in  St. 
Petersburg  as  in  Venice  and  Constantinople.  The  flock, 
— splashes  of  grayish-blue  color  on  the  immaculate 
white  background, — were  hopping  about,  fluttering  llieir 
wings,  and  "seemed  to  await  with  more  impatience  than 
usual,  in  front  of  the  underground  shop  of  the  ])ro- 
visiou  dealer,  the  distribution  of  corn  which  he  makes 
them  every  morning  with  the  charity  of  a  brahman.  In 
truth,  though  the  snow  was  very  like  a  table-cloth,  the 
birds  did  not  find  their  table  set ;  and  the  pigeons  were 
hungry.  What  joy,  therefore,  when  the  grocer  opened 
his  door !  The  winged  band  swooped  fearlessly  down 
npon  him,  and  for  an  instant  he  disappeared  in  a 
feathery  cloud.  A  handful  or  two  of  grain,  flung  off 
to  a  distance,  restored  to  him  a  little  more  libei-ty,  and 
he  stood  in  the  doorway,  smiling  to  see  liis  little  friends 
eat  with  such  glad  avidity,  making  the  snow  fly  left 
and  right.  You  will  readily  believe  tliat  a  few  unin- 
vited sparrows  profited  by  tliis  boor., — saucy  parasites, 
— and  did  not  suffer  a  crumb  to  be  wasted  ; — after  all, 
everybody  must  live. 

Tlie  city  awoke.  Mujiks  going  out  to  buy  food,  their 
karziues  on  their  heads,  plunged  into  the  snow  with 
their  great  boots,  and  left  tracks  as  of  elephants'  feet. 
A  few  women,  a  kerchief  tied  under  the  chin,  wrapped 
in  quilted  paletot,  travei-sed  the  sti-eet  with  a  lighter 
step,  bordering  their  petticoats  with  silvery  mica. 
Gentlemen  in  "long  cloaks,  the  collar  turned  up  over 
their  ears,  were  stepping  airily  along  on  their  way  to 
their  places  of  business;  and  suddenly  appeared  in 
sight  the  first  sledge,  driven  by  Winter  in  person,  under 


90  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

the  figure  of  an  isvoclitcliik,  coiffed  with  a  four-sided 
red  velvet  cap,  clad  in  a  blue  caftan  lined  with  sheep- 
skin, and  having  an  old  bear-skin  across  his  knees. 

Waiting  for  a  fare,  he  was  sitting  on  the  back  seat  of 
his  sledge  and  looking  idly  about;  with  his  great 
leather  mittens  he  held  the  reins,  which  lay  across  the 
box,  and  the  little  Kasan  horse  trotted  along,  almost 
sweeping  the  snow  with  its  mane.  Never  since  ni}-  ar- 
rival in  St.  Petersburg  had  I  felt  so  distinctly  that  it 
was  Russia :  it  was  like  a  sudden  revelation,  and  a 
crowd  of  things,  which  till  then  had  remained  obscure, 
suddenly  became  clear  to  me. 

As  soon  as  I  had  perceived  the  snow,  I  had  dressed 
in  all  haste  ;  at  sight  of  the  sledge,  I  put  on  ray  pelisse 
and  my  overshoes,  and  a  minute  later  I  was  in  the 
street,  calling  :  "  Isvoclitcliik !  Isvoclitcliik  ! " 

The  sledge  drew  up  by  the  sidewalk,  the  isvoclitcliik 
stepped  into  his  place,  and  I  inserted  myself  into  the 
box  filled  with  hay,  carefully  folding  over  the  skirts  of 
my  pelisse,  and  drawing  the  skin  covering  over  me. 

The  construction  of  the  sledge  is  very  simple.  Imagine 
two  bars,  or  runners,  of  polished  iron,  the  anterior  end 
curved  upward  like  the  point  of  a  Chinese  shoe.  On 
these  runners,  a  light  iron  brace  makes  fast  the  driver'sr 
seat  and  the  box  in  which  the  passenger  is  seated  ;  this 
box  is  ordinarily  painted  mahogany  color.  A  sort  of 
dash-board,  curving  up  and  backwards  like  a  swan's 
breast,  gives  gi-ace  to  the  sledge,  and  protects  the  driver 
from  the  ]5articles  of  snow  which  the  frail  and  rapid 
equipage  throws  up  before  him  like  silver  foam.  The 
shafts  are  attached  to  the  collar,  as  in  the  drojky,  and 
the  traction  comes  upon  the  runners.  All  this  weighs 
nothing,  and  goes  like  the  wind,  especially  when  the 
snow  has  been  hardened  by  frost,  and  the  roads  are 
well  trodden. 

Our  destination  is  the  Anischkov  Bridge,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  Newsky  Prospekt.  This  point  occurred  to 
me  only  because  it  would  give  a  long  drive,  for,  at  this 


WINTER—TUE  NEVA.  91 

hour  of  the  mornin,2:,  I  had  nothing  to  sa}'  to  the  four 
bronze  horses  that  decorate  its  abntmcnts ;  then,  too,  I 
was  very  glad  to  see  the  Prospekt  all  powdered  with 
white,  in  full  winter  toilette. 

It  is  incredible  bow  much  the  street  had  gained  by 
it;  this  broad  strip  of  silver,  unrolled  as  far  as  eye 
could  reach,  between  the  two  lines  of  magnificent  build- 
ings, was  a  wonderful  picture.  The  colors  of  the 
houses, — rose,  yellow,  fawn-color,  warm  gray, — which 
might  seem  in  bad  taste  on  ordinary  occasions,  became 
most  harmonious  in  tone,  relieved  in  this  way  by  spark- 
ling fillets  and  specks  of  brilliant  white.  The  Cathedral 
of  bur  Lady  of  Kazan  had  undergone  a  most  pleasing 
change ;  it  had  coified  its  Italian  cupola  witli  a  cap  oi 
Kussian  snow,  outlined  all  its  cornices  and  its  Corin- 
thian capitals  with  pure  white,  and  placed  upon  the 
terrace  of  its  semi-circular  colonnade,  a  balustrade  of  mas- 
sive silver  like  that  which  adorns  its  iconostase,  and  the 
steps  which  led  to  its  portico  had  a  carpet  of  ermine, 
fine,  fleecy,  s|)lendid  enough  for  a  czarina  to  tread  with 
her  golden  slippers. 

The  statues  of  Barclay  de  Tolly  and  Kutusov 
seemed  to  rejoice  upon  their  ])edestals  that  the  sculptor 
Orlovski,  taking  into  consideration  the  climate,  had  not 
attired  them  as  Romans,  but  had,  on  the  contrary,  ac- 
corded to  them  substantial  bronze  cloaks.  Unhappily, 
however,  he  had  not  given  them  hats,  and  the  snow 
ruthlessly  powdered  their  bare  heads  with  its  cold 
marechale  powder. 

Kear  Our  Lady  of  Kazan,  the  Catherine  Canal  crosses, 
under  a  bridge,  the  Kewsky  Prospekt  ;  it  was  com- 
pletely frozen  over,  and  the  snow  lay_  in  drifts  at 
angles  of  tlie  quay,  and  on  the  steps  leading  down  to  it. 
One  nio-ht  had  stitficed  to  make  all  solid.  The  floating 
ice  which  the  Neva  had  been  bringing  down  for  a  few 
days  had  caught,  and  surrounded  with  a  transparent 
nu)uld  tiie  hulls  of  the  vessels  ranged  in  their  docks. 

Before  house-doors,   the  dvorniks  armed  with  broad 


92  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

shovels,  were  clearinoj  the  sidewalks  and  disposing  the 
snow  upon  the  road,  like  the  heaps  of  small  stones  upon 
a  macadamized  pavement.  From  all  sides  sledges 
were  making  their  appearance,  and — strange  to  say — 
the  droschkys,  so  nnmerons  the  evening  before,  had 
vanished  entirely- ;  yon  conld  not  see  a  single  one  in  the 
street.  It  a])pearod  that,  between  one  night  and  the 
next  morning,  Russia  had  returned  to  the  most  primi- 
tive condition  of  social  life,  tliat  in  wliich  the  nse  of 
wheels  had  not  yet  been  invented.  The  rosposniks, 
the  telegas,  carts  of  every  description,  glided  along  on 
runners.  Tlie  mujiks,  harnessed  with  a  small  rope, 
dragged  their  karsines  on  microscopic  sledges.  The  low- 
crowned,  broad  hats  had  all  suffered  eclipse,  and  velvet 
caps  appeared  in  their  stead. 

When  the  track  is  good  and  the  snow  is  frozen  hard, 
an  immense  ect)nomy  of  force  is  produced  by  the  use  of 
runners.  A  horse  can  draw  without  difhcnlty,  and  at 
twice  the  rate  of  speed,  a  weight  three  times  as  great  as 
he  could  under  ordinary  conditions.  In  Russia, 
during  six  months  out  of  the  year,  the  snow  is  like  a 
universal  railwa}^,  whose  white  tracks  extend  in  all  di- 
rections, wherever  you  may  wish  to  go.  This  iron  road 
made  of  silver,  has  the  advantage  of  costing  nothing 
per  mile,  a  most  economical  rate,  to  which  the  best 
engineers  will  never  attain ;  this  is,  perhaps,  the  reason 
why  genuine  railways  have  drawn  as  yet  but  two  or 
three  furrows  across  the  immense  territory  of  Russia. 
I  came  home  mucli  pleased  w^ith  my  expedition,  and 
after  having  breakfasted  and  reduced  to  ashes  a  cigar — 
delicions  sensation  in  St.  Petersburg,  where  smoking  in 
the  street  is  prohibited  under  penalty  of  a  ruble's  line  ! — 
I  went  out  on  foot,  to  enjoy  still  further  the  results  of 
this  scene-shifting  which  had  taken  place  in  the  night. 
The  great  river,  which  I  had  seen  so  lately  spreading  its 
broad  waves  wrinkled  by  their  perpetual  fluctuation, 
changing  their  tint  at  every  instant  with  new  play  of 
light  upon  thoir  surface,  furrowed  by  the  never-ceasing 


WINTER.— THE  NEVA.  93 

motion  of  tnn:-l)oats,  l)arG;cs,  ships,  skiffs,  and  flowinsi; 
down  into  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  itself  as  broad  as  a  gulf, 
had  totally  changed  its  appearance  ;  to  animation  the 
most  lively,  had  sncceeded  the  immobilit}''  of  death. 
The  snow  lay,  a  thick  covering,  over  the  cemented  ice- 
blocks,  and  between  "the  granite  qnays  stretc-hcd  away, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  a  white  valley  whence  rose 
here  and  there,  the  black  tops  of  masts  above  half- 
buried  vessels.  Stakes  and  fir-branches  indi(-ated  holes 
which  are  made  in  the  ice  for  the  purpose  of  drawing 
water,  and  mark  ont  from  one  shore  to  the  other,  the 
road  that  may  be  safeh^  followed  ;  for  already  peojDle  on 
foot  are  crossing,  and  they  are  preparing  slopes  of 
])lanking  for  sledges  and  carriages ;  these  slopes,  how- 
ever, are  as  yet  barricaded,  the  ice  not  being  solid. 

The  better  to  command  the  view,  I  went  out  upon  the 
bridge  of  the  Annnnciation,  more  commonly  designated 
as  the  Nicholas  liridge  ;  of  this  I  have  ali-eady  said  a 
few  words  in  speaking  of  my  arrival  in  St.  Petersburg. 
This  time  I  had  leisure  to  examine  ii?  detail  the  beauti- 
ful chapel  raised  in  honor  of  St.  Nicholas  the  Thau- 
maturgist,  at  the  point  where  the  two  movable  parts  of 
the  bridge  are  connected  with  each  other.  It  is  an 
exquisite  little  building,  in  that  llyzan tine-Muscovite 
style  which  is  so  well  suited  to  the  orthodox  Greek  ritual, 
and  which  I  should  be  glad  to  see  generally  adopted  in 
E,ussia.  It  consists  of  a  sort  of  pavilion  of  bluish 
granite,  flanked  at  each  corner  by  a  colunm  with  a 
compt)site  capital,  encircled  by  a  moulding  in  the 
middle,  and  grooved  in  flutings,  not  straight,  but 
deflected  at  top  and  bottom.  The  base,  which  is 
double,  and  supports  the  pilaster  of  an  arch,  is  hewn 
diamond-shaped.  Three  bays  open  upon  three  sides  of 
the  building,  whose  rear  wall  within  is  resplendent  with 
a  mosaic  of  precious  stones,  i-eprescntiug  the  patron 
saint  of  the  chapel,  dra])ed  in  his  dalmatic,  a  golden 
halo  behind  his  head,  a  book  o[)en  in  his  hand,  and  sur- 
rounded by  celestial  figures  in  adoration.     Iron  lattice- 


94  A.  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

work,  richly  wrought,  closes  the  two  lateral  bays ;  that 
of  the  front,  at  which  ends  a  flight  of  steps,  gives 
access  to  the  chapel.  The  cornice,  covered  with  in- 
scriptions in  the  Slavonic  language,  punctuated  with 
stars,  has  for  its  acrotcria  a  series  of  ornaments  in  the 
shape  of  hearts  with  their  points  upward,  alternating 
with  triangular  notches.  The  roof,  a  little  pyramid 
with  a  nervure  at  each  angle,  is  entirely  covered  with 
golden  scales.  It  bears  on  its  summit  one  of  those  Mus- 
covite belfries,  which  can  only  be  likened  to  a  tulip 
bulb,  with  gilt  stars,  and  surmounted  by  a  Greek  cross, 
whose  foot  is  set  in  a  crescent,  which  is  itself  supported 
upon  a  ball.  These  gilded  roofs  have  a  strange  chai-m 
for  me,  especially  when  the  snow  has  strewn  them  with 
its  silver  tilings  and  gives  them  the  look  of  old  silver- 
gilt  whose  gilding  is  partly  worn  off.  The  tones  are 
incredibly  rare  and  soft,  effects  absolutely  unknown 
elsewhere. 

A  lamp  burns,  day  and  night,  before  the  picture  of 
the  saint.  The  isvochtchik,  as  he  drives  past,  gathers 
the  reins  in  one  liand  and  raises  his  cap,  making  the 
sign  of  the  cross  with  the  other.  Mujiks  prostrate 
themselves  upon  the  snow.  Soldiers  and  officers  say  a 
prayer,  standing  bareheaded  and  motionless,  with  an  air 
of  rapt  devotion,  meritorious  when  the  thermometer  is 
nearly  at  zero ;  women  go  up  the  steps  and  enter,  to  kiss 
the  feet  of  the  sacred  ligure,  with  many  genuflections. 
It  is  not  the  common  people  only,  as  you  might  suppose, 
who  do  this,  but  also  persons  of  the  higher  classes  ;  no 
one  crosses  the  bridge  without  some  sign  of  respect,  a 
salutation,  at  least,  to  its  patron  saint,  and  the  kopecks 
]-ain  into  the  two  boxes  placed  one  on  either  side  of  the 
chapel.     But  let  us  return  to  the  Neva. 

At  the  right,  if  you  look  towards  the  city,  you  will 
observe,  a  little  behind  the  English  quay,  the  five 
])ointed  bell-towers  of  the  church  of  the  IIorse-Gaards, 
their  gold  slightly  frosted  with  white ;  farther  away, 
tlie    dome   of    St.    Isaac's,  like    the    diamond-starred 


WINTER.— THE  NEVA.  95 

mitre  of  some  magian  king ;  the  glittering  needle  of  tlie 
Admiralty;  and  a  corner  of  the  Winter  Palace.  In  the 
background,  and  more  to  the  left,  springs  from  an 
island  in  the  river,  the  bold,  slender  spire  of  the  church 
of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  rising  al)Ove  the  low  walls  of 
the  fortress,  its  golden  angel  sparkling  against  the  rose- 
streaked  turquoise  sky.  On  the  lei't,  looking  up  tlio 
river,  the  horizon  is  not  so  richly  notched  with  gold ; 
there  are  fe\ver  churches  on  the  left  side,  and  they  are 
more  remote  from  the  river,  quite  in  the  interior  of 
Vassili-Ostrov,  as  this  quarter  of  the  city  is  called. 
But  the  palaces  and  other  elegant  buildings  which  border 
the  quay  present  far-stretching,  stately  lines  of  front- 
age, felicitously  accentuated  by  the  snow.  Just  before 
the  bridge  at  the  Exchange,  the  Academy,  a  grand, 
classic  edifice,  containing  within  its  square  a  circular 
court,  leads  down  to  the  river  by  a  colossal  staircase, 
ornamented  with  two  great  human-headed  Egyptian 
sphinxes, — sphinxes,  surprised  and  shudderiTig  to  iind 
caparisons  of  snow  upon  their  red  granite  backs! 
From  the  centre  of  the  square  springs  the  obelisk  of 
Roumianzov. 

If  you  cross  the  river  and  go  up,  passing  the  Winter 
Palace  and  the  Hermitage,  as  far  as  the  I\Iarble  Palace, 
then  turn  just  before  reaching  the  Troitski  Bridge,  you 
will  discover  a  new  aspect  well  worth  observation. 
The  river  divides  into  two  arms,  the  Great  and  the 
Little  Neva,  enck)sing  an  island  whose  point — opposed 
to  the  current,  when  the  water  is  flowing — is  decorated 
in  architectural  and  imposing  fashion. 

At  each  corner  of  the  esplanade  which  borders  the 
island  on  this  side,  rises  a  sort  of  tower  or  rostral  col- 
umn of  red  granite,  with  prows  of  ships  and  anchors  in 
bronze,  surmounted  by  a  tripod  or  lantern  of  the  same 
material,  which  stands  on  a  base,  against  which  seated 
figures  are  leaning.  Between  these  two  col mnns,  whose 
ctt'ect  is  line,  stands  the  Exchange,  which  is,  like  the 
Bourse  in  Paris,  a  faint  suggestion  of  the  Parthenon, 


9G  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

a  parallelogram  surroniided  by  columns.  Only  liere 
they  are  Doi-ic  instead  of  being  Corinthian,  and  the 
main  body  of  the  building  appears  a1)0ve  the  top  of  the 
colonnade  which  surrounds  it,  presenting  a  triangular 
roof  like  a  great  pediment,  on  which  opens  a  large 
arched  window,  half  concealed  by  a  sculptured  group 
placed  on  the  cornice  of  the  portico.  At  the  right  and 
loft,  the  University  and  Custom-IIouse,  buildings  of 
reo-ular  and  simple  architecture,  balance  each  other. 
The  two  towers,  with  tlieir  giant  outlines,  relieve  the 
cold  and  classic  effect  of  these  buildings.  In  the  little 
Keva  are  crowded,  for  winter  cpiarters,  vessels  of  vari- 
ous descriptions,  their  unrigged  masts  drawing  fine 
lines  upon  the  background"  Finally,  to  this^  hasty 
sketch  on  pearl-gray  paper,  add  some  touches  of  intense 
white,  and  you  will  have  a  very  fair  sketch  to  paste 
into  your  album. 

To-day  I  shall  go  no  farther ;  it  is  not  warm  on  these 
quays  and  bridges,  where  a  wind  is  blowing  that  has 
come  straight  from  the  pole.  Everybody  accelerates 
his  pace,  The  two  lions  |)laced  at  the  deharcadere  of 
the  imperial  palace  seem  to  find  their  paws  benuml)ed 
with  cold,  and  with  difficulty  to  retain  the  ball  which 
each  holds  with  his  claws. 

To-morrow,  on  the  English  quay  and  the  ISTewsky 
Prospekt,  there  is  to  be  a'very  Longchamps  of  private 
sledges  and  open  vehicles.  It  is  certainly  surprising 
that  in  a  city  wliere  the  thermometer  is  often  ten  or 
twelve  degrees  below  zero,  they  go  out  so  seldom  in 
close  carriages.  It  is  only  at  the  last  extremity,  sensi- 
tive to  cold'as  they  are,  that  the  Russians  take  refuge 
in  the  careta.  But  the  pelisse  is  a  defence  against  cold 
which  they  so  well  know  how  to  use,  that  with  its  aid 
thev  can  laugh  at  temperature  severe  enough  to  freeze 
the"  mercury  "in  the  bulb.  At  most  they  only  need  to 
put  on  one  sleeve,  and  hold  the  garment  firmly  togethei", 
inserting  the  hand  into  a  little  pocket  made  in  the 
front.     To  wear  a  pelisse  is  an  art  which  you  do  not 


WINTER.— THE  NEVA.  DJ 

acquire  in  a  day.  The  Russian,  l)y  an  imperceptible 
motion,  gives  it  ])lay,  crosses  it,  doubles  and  clasps  it 
around  his  l)ody  lil'cc  the  cocoon  ol"  a  silkworm  or  the 
wrappings  of  a  mummy.  The  fur  retains  for  some 
hours  the  tem]:)erature  of  the  room  in  wliich  it  has  been 
hanging,  and  completely  isolates  yon  from  the  outside 
air ;  in  the  pelisse  yon  have  as  much  heat  out  of  doors 
as  in  the  house,  and  if,  renouncing  the  vain  elegance  of 
the  hat,  you  put  on  the  wadded  or  fur  cap,  there  is 
nothing  to  prevent  you  from  turning  u])  the  collar, 
which  then  has  its  fur  inside.  Tlie  nape  of  your  neck, 
your  occiput,  your  ears,  are  all  in  shelter.  Only  j'our 
nose,  pointing  outwards  through  two  furry  screens,  is 
exposed  to  the  inclemencies  of  the  season ;  but  should 
it  begin  to  grow  wiiite,  some  charitable  passer-by  will 
notify  you,  and  on  rubbing  it  w^ith  a  liandful  of  snow, 
it  will  quickly  resume  its  natural  red.  Besides,  these 
little  accidents  happen  only  in  winters  exceptionally 
severe.  Some  old  dandies,  rigid  followers  of  the 
London  and  Paris  fasliions,  not  able  to  make  up  their 
minds  to  the  cap,  have  hats  made  for  them  with  no  rim 
behind,  merely  a  visor  in  front,  for  sometimes  it  is  im- 
possible to  keep  the  collar  down.  The  sharp  wind  will 
make  your  bare  neck  feel  the  edge  of  its  icy  blade, 
quite  as  unpleasant  as  the  contact  of  real  steel  with  the 
neck  of  a  patient. 

The  most  delicate  women  do  not  fear  going  out  in  an 
open  carriage,  and  l)reathing  for  an  hour  this  icy  but 
refreshing  and  healthful  air,  which  is  a  relief  to  the 
lungs,  oppressed  by  the  hothoui^e  temperature  within 
doors.  All  you  can  see  are  faces  rosy  with  cold  ;  tiie 
rest  is  a  confusioiT  of  pelisses  and  muffs,  out  of  which 
you  could  hardly  disentangle  a  human  iigure.  Over 
the  knees  extends  a  great  bear-skin,  white  or  black, 
trimmed  with  scarlet.  Tiie  cai-riage  is  like  a  s:,)rt  of 
boat  heaped  with  furs,  whence  emerge  two  or  three 
smiling  heads. 

Confusing  the  Dutch  with  the  Russian  sledges,  I  had 
5 


98  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

imagined  something  quite  different  from  the  reality. 
It  is  in  Holland  tlmt  those  fantastic  sledges  glide  over 
the  frozen  canals,  figures  of  swans,  draj^ons,  sea-shells, 
contorted,  panelled,  gilded,  painted  by  Hondekoeter  or 
Yost,  whose  panels  have  been  carefully  preserved, — 
drawn  by  horses  wearing  pom2)ons,  plumes,  and  bells, 
but  more  frequently  pushed  by  the  hand  of  a  skater. 
The  Eussian  sledge  is  not  a  plaything,  a  matter  of  luxury 
and  amusement,  but  an  object  of  daily  use  and  of  the 
first  utility.  No  change  is  made  in  its  form,  and  the 
gentleman's  private  sledge  is  similar  in  every  point,  in 
the  principle  of  its  structure,  to  that  of  the  isvochtchik. 
Only  the  iron  runners  are  more  polished  and  of  more 
graceful  curve  ;  the  box  is  of  mahogany  or  wicker- 
work  ;  the  cushions  are  of  wadded  morocco ;  the  apron 
is  varnished  leather ;  a  foot-muff  replaces  the  hay,  an 
expensive  robe  the  old  skin  gnawed  by  mites  ;  the  lux- 
ury consists  in  the  coachman's  attire,  the  beauty  of  the 
liorso,  and  the  speed  at  which  he  goes. 

There  is  often  a  second  horse  harnessed  to  the  sledge, 
but  the  height  of  style  is  the  troika,  a  vehicle  eminently 
Eussian,  full  of  local  color,  and  very  picturesque.  ^  The 
troika  is  a  great  sledge  which  holds  four  persons,  sitting 
face  to  face,  and  a  driver  besides ;  it  is  harnessed  with 
three  borses.  The  one  in  the  middle,  who  is  in  the  shafts, 
has  the  collar  and  the  wooden  arch,  the  douga,  rising 
above  his  withers;  the  two  others  are  attached  to  the 
sledf>-e  by  an  exterior  strap,  and  by  another  strap,  loosely, 
to  the  collar  of  the  thill-horse.  Four  reins  suflice  for  the 
three  animals,  the  two  outsiders  having  only  one  ]-ein 
apiece.  Nothing  is  more  charming  than  to  see  a  ti'oika 
spin  along  the  Newsky  Prospekt  at  the  hour  of  prom- 
enade. The  thill-horse  trots,  stepping  straight  ahead, 
the  other  two  gallop  and  pull  fan-wise.  One  of  these 
oufht  to  have  a  wild,  excited,  indomitable  air,  to  hold 
up'  his  head  and  seeui  to  start  aside  and  kick  :  this  one 
is  called  "  the  fury."  The  other  should  shake  his  mane, 
arch  his  neck,  curvet  and  go  sideways,  touch  his  Iqiees 


WINTER-TUB  NEVA.  99 

with  the  end  of  liis  nose,  dance,  and  flhig  himself  about  at 
the  caprice  of  tlie  moment :  this  is  the  "coquet."  These 
three  noble  steeds  with  metal  chains  on  their  head-stalls, 
with  harness  light  as  threads,  spangled  here  and  thei-e  with 
delicate  gilt  ornaments,  are  suggestive  of  those  antique 
horses  upon  triunq)hal  arches,  drawing  bronze  chariots 
to  which  they  are  in  no  way  attached.  They  seem  to 
sport  and  gambol  l)efore  the  troilva  entirely  at  will. 
The  horse  in  the  middle  alone  has  a  slightly  serious 
air,  like  some  wisei"  friend  between  two  gay  compan- 
ions. You  will  easily  suppose  that  it  is  no  trifling  mat- 
ter to  maintain  this  apparent  disorder  in  the  midst  of 
great  speed,  each  animal  preserving  a  different  gait. 
Sometimes  the  "  fury  "  plays  his  part  in  good  earnest, 
or  the  "  coquet "  takes  a  fancy  to  roll  in  the  snow. — 
There  is  needed,  therefore,  in  driving  a  troika,  the 
most  consummate  skill.  But  what  a  charming  amuse- 
ment !  I  am  surprised  no  gentleman-jockey  in  London 
or  Paris  has  taken  a  fancy  to  it.  It  is  to  be  considered, 
however,  that  snow  is  not  abundant  enouo;h  in  Enu'land 
or  r  ranee. 

The  sleighing  remains  good,  and,  after  a  few  days, 
coupes  and  coaches  appear  on  runners.  These  vehicles, 
taken  off  the  wheels,  present  a  peculiar  appearance — 
unfinished  carriages,  you  would  say,  placed  on  trestles  ; 
the  sledge  has  infinitely  more  grace  and  style. 

At  sight  of  pelisses,  sledges,  troikas,  carriages  on  run- 
ners, and  the  thermometer  going  two  or  three  degi'ces 
lower  every  moi-ning,  I  thought  wintei'  definitely  estab- 
lished. But  prudent  old  heads,  habituated  to  the  cli- 
mate, performed  sceptical  mutations,  saying  :  "  No,  this 
is  not  winter  .yet."  And  truly,  this  was  not  winter,  the 
true  winter,  the  Russian  winter,  the  winter  of  the  Arc- 
tic Circle,  as  I  saw  it  some  weeks  later. 


VIII. 

WINTER. 

THE  weather  this  year  has  fallen  short  of  Enssian 
tradition,  and  Winter  has  shown  himself  as  capri- 
cious as  in  Paris.  Now  a  wind  from  the  pole  freezes  his 
nose  and  makes  his  cheeks  the  color  of  wax,  and  now 
his  mantle  of  ice  melts  under  the  south-west  wind,  and 
di'ips  away  in  rain.  To  sparkling  snow  succeeds  gray- 
ish snow ;  to  a  road  creaking  under  the  runner  like 
])o\vdered  marble,  a  muddy  slough  worse  than  the  mac- 
adam of  the  boulevards  ;  then  suddenly,  in  a  single 
night,  the  capillary  vein  of  spirits-of-wine  goes  down 
twenty-live  degrees  in  the  thermometer  by  the  window  ; 
a  new  white  mantle  covers  the  roofs,  and  the  droschkys 
disappear. 

At  from  two  to  ten  degrees  below  zero,  the  winter 
becomes  characteristic  and  poetical ;  it  is  as  rich  in 
effects  as  the  most  splendid  summer.  But  thus  far,  it 
has  lacked  poet  or  painter. 

We  have  been  having,  for  a  few  days,  trul}^  Russian 
cold,  and  I  propose  to  note  some  of  its  aspects  ;  for,  at 
this  strength,  cold  is  visible,  and  you  see  it  perfectly, 
although  yon  do  not  feel  it  through  the  double  windows 
of  your  well-heated  apartment. 

The  sky  becomes  cleai-,  and  of  a  tint  of  blue  which 
has  no  resembhince  to  the  azure  of  tlie  South — a  blue 
of  steel,  a  blue  of  ice,  of  a  rare  and  charming  tone 
whi(;h  no  palette,  not  even  that  of  Aivasovski,  has  ever 
reproduced.  The  light  is  brilliant,  but  it  is  not  warm, 
and  the  icy  sun  reddens  the  cheeks  of  a  few  little  rosy 
clouds.     The  diamonded  snow  scintillates ;  it  sparkles 


WINTER.  101 

like  Parian  marble,  and  grows  twice  as  white  under  the 
frost  which  makes  it  liard.  Tlio  trees,  covered  with 
crystallized  rime,  resemble  great  spreading  ramiiica- 
tions  of  quicksilver,  or  the  metallic  splendors  of  an  en- 
chanted garden. 

Draw  on  your  pelisse,  turn  up  the  collar,  pull  your 
fur  cap  down  to  your  eyebrows,  and  hail  the  lirst  is- 
vochtchik  who  passes ;  he  will  drive  up  quickly,  and 
bring  his  sledge  close  to  the  sidewalk.  Ilowo\'or  young 
he  may  be,  his  beard  will  be  perfectly  white.  His 
breath  condensed  in  icicles  around  his  face,  which  is 
purple  with  cold,  gives  him  the  aspect  of  a  patriarch. 
Ilis  stiffened  locks  scourge  his  cheek-bones  like  icy 
serpents  ;  and  the  fur  which  he  lays  across  your  knees 
is  sown  with  a  million  little  white  globules. 

You  are  off ;  the  air,  keen,  penetrating,  icy,  but  sa- 
lubrious, stings  your  face  ;  the  horse,  heated  by  the  rapid- 
ity of  his  motion,  breathes  out  smoke  like  a  fabled 
dragon,  and  from  his  reeking  sides  rises  a  little  cloud 
of  vapor  which  hangs  about  him.  You  notice,  in  pass- 
ing, horses  of  other  isvochtchiks  standing  to  be  fed  ; 
the  sweat  lias  frozen  upon  them ;  they  are  actually  en- 
crusted with  ice,  as  a  sugared  almond  with  sugar.  As 
soon  as  they  are  again  in  motion,  this  pellicle  breaks  ; 
it  melts  or  "falls  off,  to  be  renewed  at  the  next  pause. 
These  alternations,  which  would  ruin  an  English  horse 
in  a  week,  have  no  bad  effect  upon  the  health  of  these 
hardy  little  animals.  JSTo  matter  how  cold  it  is,  only 
the  most  expensive  horses  are  blanketed,  and  instead 
of  those  leather  caparisons,  embroidered  in  the  coi-ners 
with  armorial  devices,  usual  with  us  and  in  England, 
they  mei-ely  throw  over  the  smoking  flanks  of  their 
blood-horses  a  Persian  or  Smyrna  carpet  of  brilliant 
hues. 

The  caretas,  which  glide  about  on  runners,  have  their 
glasses  coated  thick  with  ice,  which  prevents  your  being 
seen,  but  also  prevents  your  seeing.  If  Cupid  did  not 
shiver  in  a  temperature  like  this,  he  would  find  as  uuich 


102  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

mystery  in  the  caretas  of  St.  Petersburg  as  in  the  gon- 
dohis  of  Yenice. 

They  have  begun  to  drive  upon  the  river ;  the  ice, 
two  or  three  feet  thick,  in  spite  of  some  temporary 
thaws  which  melt  the  snow,  will  not  break  up  until 
spring ;  it  is  strong  enougli  to  bear  heavy  wagons  or 
even  artillery.  Pine  branches  designate  the  roads  to 
follow  and  the  points  to  be  avoided.  At  cei-tain  places 
the  ice  is  cut  out,  to  give  an  opportunity  of  drawing  up 
water,  which  is  still  flowing  under  this  crystal  flooi-. 
The  water,  warmer  than  the  atmosphere,  smokes  througli 
these  apertures  like  a  boiling  caldron,  but  this  is  only 
by  comparison,  and  it  would  not  be  wise  to  trust  to  its 
warmth. 

In  walking  on  the  English  quay,  or  on  the  river  it- 
self, it  is  curious  to  see  the  tish  taken  out  from  the 
tanks  in  which  they  are  kept  alive  ;  when  the  scoop 
brings  them  up  and  they  are  thrown  ])alpitating  on  the 
planks,  they  fling  themselves  about,  writhing  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  soon  are  still,  stiffened,  and,  so  to  speak,  are 
imprisoned  in  a  transparent  casing ;  the  water  with 
which  they  were  wet  has  suddenly  congealed  upon 
them. 

In  this  intense  cold,  freezing  is  marvellously  sudden  ; 
place  a  bottle  of  champagne  between  the  sashes  of  the 
double  window,  and  in  five  minutes  it  will  be  iced  bet- 
ter than  in  any  cooler.  Pardon  a  personal  incident : 
I  will  not  abuse  your  permission.  Carried  away  by  the 
force  of  habit,  one  day  I  had  lighted  an  excellent  Hav- 
ana just  at  the  moment  of  going  out  for  a  walk.  In 
the  door- way,  the  prohibition  against  smoking  in  the 
streets  of  St.  Petersburg,  and  the  fine  of  a  ruble,  sud- 
deidy  recurred  to  me ;  and  yet  to  throw  away  an  excellent 
cigar  after  only  two  or  three  whiffs  is  a  hard  thing  for 
a  smoker.  As  I  was  going  but  a  few  steps,  I  concealed 
it  in  my  hand.  To  carry  a  cigar  is  not  against  the 
law.  When  I  opened  my  hand  again,  in  the  vestibule 
of  my  friend's  house,  the  end  moist  from  my  lips  had 


WINTER.  103 

become  a  bit  of  ice,  while  at  the  other  the  generous 
jpuro  was  yet  smoking. 

As  yet,  however,  it  has  been  only  six  or  eight  degrees 
below  zero ;  this  is  not  the  "  fine  cold  weather,"  the 
"splendid  cold  weather,"  which  conies  nsually  by 
Epiphany.  The  Eussians  complain  of  the  mild  winter, 
and  say  that  the  climate  is  deterioratirig.  They  have 
wot  yet  deigned  to  light  the  great  piles  of  wood  prepared 
nnd'er  wronght-iron  pavilions,  in  front  of  the  Imperial 
Theatre,  and  of  the  Winter  Palace,  at  which  the  coach- 
men gather  to  keep  warm  while  waiting  for  their  mas- 
ters;'it  is  too  mild.  And  yet  a  shivery  Parisian  cannot 
help  feeling  a  certain  arctic  and  polar  impression,  when, 
on  coming  out  from  the  opera  or  the  ballet,  he  sees  in 
the  dazzling,  cold  moonlight,  in  the  great  square  white 
M-ith  snow, "the  line  of  private  carriages,  their  coachmen 
powdered  with  mica,  their  horses  fringed  with  silver, 
their  lamps  shining  faint  through  frosted  glass  ;  and  it 
is  not  without  many  anxious  fears  lest  he  freeze  by  the 
way,  that  he  confides  himself  to  his  sledge.  But  his 
pelisse  is  thoroughly  impregnated  with  heat,  and  keeps 
the  atmosphere  about  him  warm.  If  he  lives  at  the 
Malaia  Morskoia,  or  upon  the  ISTewsky  Prospekt,  in  a 
direction  which  requires  him  to  go  near  St.  Isaac's,  let 
him  not  forget  to  cast,  in  passing,  a  glance  at  the  church. 
Pure  whitelines  bring  out  sharply  the  great  architec- 
tural divisions,  and  upon  the  cupola,  whose  outline  is 
blurred  by  the  darkness,  there  gleams,  at  the  most  convex 
point,  one  scintillating  scale,  just  facing  the  moon,  who 
seems  to  gaze  at  herself  in  this  mirror  of  gold.  This 
luminous  point  has  a  brilliancy  so  intense,  you  would 
take  it  for  a  liglited  lamp.  All  the  lustre  of  the  dome 
is  concentrated  there.  The  effect  is  truly  magical. 
There  is  nothing  more  beautiful  than  this  great  temple 
of  gold  and  bronze  and  granite,  standing  on  a  carpet  of 
ermine  without  its  spots,  in  the  blue  radiance  of  a 
winter  moon  ! 

Can  it  be  that  they  propose  to  construct,  as  in  the 


104  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

famous  winter  of  1740,  a  palace  of  ice,  that  long  files  of 
sleds  are  transporting  these  enormous  blocks  of  water 
congealed  into  hewn'stone,  transparent  as  diamond,  well 
suited  for  the  walls  of  a  temple,  raised  to  the  mysterious 
Genius  of  the  Pole  ?  By  no  means ;  it  is  only  the  sup- 
ply for  the  ice-houses ;  they  are  providing  for  summer, 
cutting  from  the  Neva,  at  the  most  favorable  period, 
these  great  cubes  of  crystal,  with  their  sapphire  gleams, 
of  which  each  sled  carries  but  a  single  one.  The 
drivers  seat  themselves  on  these  blocks,  or  lean  ^against 
them  us  if  they  were  cushions,  and  when  the  file,  hin- 
dei-ed  in  the  crowded  streets,  stands  still,  the  horses  bite, 
with  a  trnly  Northern  greediness,  at  the  block  of  ice 
which  happens  to  be  in  iront  of  them. 

Notwithstanding  all  this  ice  and  snow  and  frost,  when 
a  party  to  the  Islands  is  proposed  to  you,  accept  with- 
out undue  anxiety  concerning  your  nose  and  ears !  If 
you  have  the  weakness  to  set  store  by  these  cartilages,  is 
there  not  fur  enough  to  keep  them  safe  ? 

The  troika,  the  great  sledge  with  three  horses  and 
seats  for  five  persons,  is  at  the  door.  Make  haste  to  go 
down.  With  her  feet  in  a  bear-skin  chanceliere, 
wrapped  to  the  chin  in  the  satin  pelisse  lined  with 
sable,  pressing  to  her  breast  the  wadded  muff,  the 
lowered  veil  already  spangled  with  a  thousand  brilliant 
specks,  your  fair  companion  only  waits  for  you,  that 
the  great  fur  covering  may  be  buckled  down  at  its  four 
sides,  and  that  the  impatient  horses  may  have  leave  to 
start.  You  will  not  be  cold  ;  two  beautiful  eyes  can 
warm  the  iciest  tem])erature  ! 

In  summer,  the  Islands  are  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  the 
Auteuil,  the  Folio-St.-James  of  St.  Petersljurg.  In 
winter  they  scarcely  deserve  the  name  of  islands.  The 
canals  freeze,  they  are  concealed  by  snow,  and  the 
islands  become  a  part  of  the  mainland.  Through  the 
cold  season,  there  is  but  one  element  left,  and  that  is, 


ice. 


You  have  crossed  the  Neva,  and  passed  beyond  the 


WINTER.  105 

last  avenue  of  Vassili  Ostrov.  The  cliaracter  of  the 
buildings  changes ;  the  bouses,  of  fewer  stories  in 
height,  are  separated  from  eadi  otlier  by  gardens  which 
are  enclosed,  as  in  Holland,  with  board  fences.  Which- 
ever way  you  look,  wood  has  taken  the  place  of  stone, 
or,  rather,  of  brick  ;  streets  become  roads,  and  you  drive 
along  beside  a  sheet  of  snow,  spotless  and  perfectly  level ; 
it  is  a  canal.  Along  the  edge  of  the  road,  little  guide- 
posts,  designed  to  secure  travellers  against  losing  their 
way  in  this  white  wilderness,  look  in  the  distance  like 
kobolds  or  gnomes,  coiffed  with  tall  caps  of  white  felt, 
and  wrapped  in  narrow  brown  cloaks.  Some  little 
bridges  of  a  single  arch,  whose  beams  are  faintly  out- 
lined where  the  snow  has  been  heaped  above  them  by 
the  road,  are  all  that  indicate  that  what  is  below  is 
water,  frozen  solid  and  hidden  from  sight.  Soon  ap- 
pears a  great  pine  forest,  on  whose  edge  are  restaurants 
and  tea-houses,  for  this  is  a  famous  resort  for  jjleasure- 
parties,  especially  in  the  evening,  though  the  tempera- 
ture be  severe  enough  to  freeze  the  mercury  in  its  bulb. 

Notliing  is  finer,  stretching  away  betv\^een  the  black 
(!urtains  of  the  pine  woods,  than  these  broad,  v\^hite  ave- 
nues, where  the  scarcely  perceptible  track  made  by  the 
runners  is  like  the  scratch  of  a  diamond  upon  ground 
glass.  The  wind  has  shaken  down  from  the  branches 
the  snow  which  fell  a  few  days  ago,  and  there  remains 
of  it  only  here  and  there  a  brilliant  touch  upon  the 
sombre  verdure,  like  the  high  lights  placed  by  a  skilful 
painter.  The  great  trunks  of  the  trees  reach  up  like 
columns,  and  justify  the  title  of  "Nature's  Cathedral," 
— which  persons  of  a  romantic  taste  have  given  to  the 
woods. 

When  the  snow  is  one  or  two  feet  deep,  a  person  on 
foot  becomes  an  impossibility ;  all  the  way  down  the 
long  avenue,  there  are  not  to  be  scon  more  than  three 
or  four  mujiks,  wrapped  in  their  touloupes,  and  ]dung- 
ing  with  their  boots,  of  felt  or  of  leather,  deep  into  the 
white,  powdery  mass.  About  as  many  black  dogs,  or 
5* 


lOG  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

dogs  that  seem  black  by  contrast,  run, — tracing  circles 
like  the  poodle  of  Faust, — or  accost  one  another  Avith  the 
signs  of  canine  free-inasoiny  common  all  the  M'orld 
over.  I  mention  this  trifling  detail,  for  it  demonstrates 
the  rarity  of  dogs  at  St.  Petersburg,  since  one  finds 
them  worth  noticing. 

This  part  of  the  Islands  is  called  Krestovsky,  and  it 
contains  a  charming  village  of  Swiss  cottages,  occupied 
daring  the  summer  by  a  colony  of  families,  who  are, 
for  the  most  pai't,  German.  The  Russians  excel  iu 
working  in  wood,  and  cai-ve  in  pine  quite  as  well  as  do 
the  Swiss  and  Tyrolese.  They  make  from  this  material 
exquisite  ornaments  of  all  sorts,  executed  on  the  impulse 
of  the  moment  with  knife  and  saw.  The  cottages  of 
Krestovsky,  constructed  in  the  Swiss-Russian  style,  must 
be  deliglitful  summer  residences.  A  great  gallery,  a 
sort  of  open  room,  occupies  the  whole  lower  floor  in  the 
front  of  the  house.  Here  they  pass  their  time  in  the 
June  and  July  days  that  have  no  end,  living  among 
their  flowers  and  shrubs.  Hither  they  Ijring  their 
pianos,  tables,  sofas, — to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  life  in  the 
open  air,  after  having  been  for  eight  months  shut  up  as  in 
a  hothouse.  In  the  flrst  five  days  after  the  ice  breaks 
up  in  the  Neva,  the  migration  becomes  general.  Long 
trains  of  wagons  loaded  with  furniture  set  forth  from 
St.  Petersburg  for  the  Island  villas.  As  soon  as  the 
days  begin  to  shorten  again,  and  the  evenings  to  grow 
cold,  they  return  to  the  city,  and  the  cottages  are  shut 
up  till  the  following  year  ;  but  they  are  none  the  less 
])icturesque  for  that,  under  the  snow  which  changes 
their  lace-work  of  wood  into  silver  filigree. 

If  you  go  on  farther,  you  will  soon  come  out  into  an 
extensive  clearing,  where  rise  what  are  called  in  France, 
Russian  mountains,  and  in  Russia,  mountains  of  ice. 
liussian  mountains  were  the  rage  in  Paris  about  the 
time  of  the  Restoration.  There  were  some  constructed 
at  Belleville  and  in  other  public  gardens;  but  the  dif- 
ference of  climate   required  a   dilferent  construction. 


WINTER.  107 

Cars  with  wheels  ran  down  in  steep  grooves,  and  went 
np  a<>;ain  to  a  ])hxtforin  not  so  high  as  the  point  of  de- 
parture, impelled  by  the  momentum  acquired  in  the 
descent.  Accidents  were  not  rare,  for  sometimes  the 
little  vehicle  ran  off  the  track ;  so,  after  a  time,  this 
amusement  was  relinquished  as  dangerous.  The  ice- 
mountaius  of  St.  Petersburg  are  surmounted  by  a  light 
pavilion  with  a  platform,  to  which  the  ascent  is  by 
flights  of  M^ooden  stairs.  The  slope  consists  of  planks, 
bordered  by  a  raised  edge  and  snpported  by  beams  and 
posts,  over  which,  at  intervals,  water  is  jxiured,  which, 
freezing,  makes  a  slide  as  smooth  as  glass.  The  corre- 
sponding pavilion  has  a  separate  track,  so  that  there  is 
no  danger  of  collision.  The  descent  is  made  usually  by 
three  or  four  persons  togetlier,  who  are  seated  on  a  sled, 
whi(;h  is  guided  by  a  man  on  skates  standing  np  behind 
it;  or  else  a  solitary  individual  dashes  down  alone  npon 
a  little  seat  which  he  directs  with  his  foot  or  hand,  or 
with  a  long  stick.  Now  and  then  some  one  has  the 
courage  to  launch  himself  head  foremost,  lying  flat  on 
his  breast,  or  in  some  other  position  seemingly  danger- 
ous, but  really  quite  without  risk.  The  Kussians  are 
very  adroit  in  this  eminently  national  amusement,  to 
which  they  are  accustomed  from  childhood;  the  rapid 
motion  thi'ongh  the  cold  air  gives  them  delifi;ht — a 
thing  incomprehensible  at  first  ""to  one  coming  from  a 
milder  climate,  but  which  he  soon  learns  to  understand. 
Often,  on  coming  out  from  the  theatre  or  from  a 
party,  when  the  snow  glistens  like  powdered  marble, 
and"^tlie  moon  shines  clear  and  icy,  or,  in  the  absence  of 
the  moon,  the  stars  have  that  scintillating  brilliancy 
which  the  frosty  air  occasions,  instead  of  thinking  of  a 
return  to  their  warm,  well-lighted,  comfortable  dwell- 
ings, a  little  party  of  young  men  and  women,  well 
wrapped  in  furs,  drive  out  to  have  snpper  at  the  Islands. 
They  take  a  troika,  and  the  rapid  equipage  starts  off 
with  tinkling  l)ells,  raising  a  silvery  dust.  They  wake 
up  the  sleeping  tavern,  lamps  arc  lighted,  the  samovf  r 


108  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

is  set  lieatiiig,  the  Veuve  Cliqiiot  champap^ne  is  iced, 
and  dishes  of  caviare,  ham,  sliced  herring,  chaud-froida 
of  partridge,  and  small  cakes  are  set  on  table.  They 
nibble  a  bit,  toncli  the  lips  to  many  different  glasses, 
laugh,  joke,  smoke  ;  then,  for  dessert,  rush  down  the 
ice-mountains,  lighted  by  mujiks  holding  lanterns ; 
finally,  return  to  the  city  at  two  or  three  in  the  morn- 
ing, enjoying  with  keenest  zest,  in  the  whirlwind  of 
motion,  and  ni  the  sharp,  pure,  healthy  air  of  the  night, 
the  very  Inxurj^  of  cold. 

Let  Mery,  who  will  have  nobody  speak  of  "  a  fine, 
frosty  day," — maintaining  that  frost  is  always  ngly, — 
shiver,  and  put  on  an  aclditional  overcoat  as  he  reads 
this  page,  bristling  with  icicles  !  Yes,  cold  is  a  luxury, 
a  new  "kind  of  intoxication,  a  kind  of  white  vertigo, 
which  I — a  shiverer  par  excellenV.e — even  I,  begin  to 
enjoy  like  a  native  of  the  North ! 

If  my  reader's  fingers  are  not  frost-bitten  under  this 
icy  descri])tion  of  the  Russian  winter,  and  he  has  yet 
courage  left  to  brave  with  me  still  further  rigors  of  the 
thermometer,  let  him  come,  after  we  have  had  a  lai-ge 
glass  of  very  hot  tea,  and  take  a  walk  upon  the  Neva, 
to  visit  an  encampment  of  Samoyeds  who  have  estab- 
lished themselves  quite  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  as 
being  the  only  place  in  St.  Petersburg  cool  enough  for 
them.  These  polar  creatures  are  like  white  bears.  A 
temperature  of  four  or  five  degrees  above  zero  is  quite 
like  spring  to  them,  and  makes  them  pant  with  the 
heat.  Their  migrations  are  most  irregular,  obeying 
caprices  or  reasons  unknown.  For  several  years  they 
have  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance,  and  1  esteem  it 
one  of  the  lucky  incidents  of  my  journey  that  they  have 
come  during  my  sojourn  in  the  city  of  the  czars. 

V/e  will  go  down  on  to  the  river  by  the  descent  at 
the  Admiralty,  in  the  trodden,  slippery  siiow,  not  with- 
out casting  a  glance  at  the  Peter  the  Great  of  Palcon- 
net,  whon'i  the  frost  has  coiffed  with  a  white  peruke, 
and  whose  bronze  horse  had  need  be  sharp-shod  to  keep 


WINTER  109 

]iis  balance  on  tlio  block  of  Finland  granite  v.-hicli  serves 
him  as  a  pedestal. 

The  inquisitive  group  which  has  gathered  around  the 
hut  of  the  Sanioyeds  forms  a  black  circle  on  the  white 
snow-covered  surface  of  the  Neva.  I  slip  in  between  a 
mujik  in  his  touloupe  and  a  soldier  in  a  gray  capote, 
and,  over  a  woman's  slioulder,  get  a  look  into  the  tent 
made  of  skins  stretched  by  pickets  driven  into  the  ice, 
and  resembling  a  great  paper  liorn  with  its  point  in  the 
air.  A  low  opening,  through  which  one  conld  enter 
only  by  going  on  all  fours,  allows  me  to  see  indistinctly 
in  the  darkness  bundles  of  furs,  which,  perchance,  are 
men  or  women — one  could  not  say  which.  Outside, 
some  skins  are  hung  on  ropes ;  snow-shoes  are  scattered 
about  upon  the  ice ;  and  a  Samoyed,  standing  by  a 
sledge,  lends  himself  complacently  to  the  ethnographic 
investigations  of  the  crowd.  lie  is  clad  in  a  sack  of 
skin,  the  hair  inwards,  to  which  is  fitted  a  hood,  with 
an  aperture  made  for  the  face,  as  in  those  knitted  caps 
they  call  2^<^'^seinontag ries,  or-  as  a  helmet  without  a 
visor.  Coarse  gloves,  having  only  the  thumbs  separate, 
and  coveiing  the  sleeves  so  as  to  leave  no  passage  for 
the  air,  and  boots  of  white  felt,  tied  on  with  thongs, 
complete  his  costume  ;  inelegant,  doubtless,  but  hermet- 
ically sealed  from  cold,  and,  besides,  not  lacking  char- 
acter ;  the  color  is  that  of  the  skin  itself,  dressed  by 
some  primitive  process.  The  face  which  is  framed  in 
this  hood — tanned,  reddened  by  the  air — has  promineut 
cheek-bones,  a  flattened  nose,  a  wide  mouth,  steel-gray 
eyes,  with  light  lashes ;  not  ugly,  and  with  a  sad,  gentle, 
intelligent  expression. 

AVhiie  in  St.  Petersburg,  these  Samoyeds  earn  a  little 
b}'  charging  visitors  a  few  kopecks  a  trip  for  excursions 
upon  tlie  Keva  in  their  sledges  drawn  by  reindeer. 
The  sledge,  which  is  very  light,  has  but  a  single  seat, 
covered  by  a  ragged  piece  of  fur,  on  which  sits  the  pas- 
senger. The  Samoyed,  standing  at  the  side,  on  one  of 
the  wooden  runners,  guides  the  team  by  means  of  a 


110  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

stict,  with  wliicli  he  touches  the  renideer  who  happens 
to  lag,  or  who  is  required  to  change  his  direction.  The 
team  is  composed  of  three  animals  abreast,  or  of  four, 
in  two  couples.  It  is  strange  and  droll  to  see  these 
pretty,  delicate  creatures,  with  their  dainty  limbs  and 
their  stag's  horns,  run  with  so  much  docility,  and  draw 
loads.  The  reindeer  go  very  fast,  or,  rather,  seem  to 
go  very  fast,  for  their  movements  are  prompt  and  rapid 
in  the  extreme  ;  but  they  are  small,  and  1  think  that  a 
trotting-horse  of  the  Orlov  breed  would  distance  them 
without;  difficulty,  especially  if  the  race  were  prolonged. 
However,  nothing  is  more  graceful  than  these  light 
equipages,  as  they  describe  great  circles  upon  the  Neva 
— iiyiiig  off  and  then  returning  to  the  point  of  depart- 
ure, scarcely  making  any  impression  upon  the  ic}'  sur- 
face. Those  who  understand  the  subject  say  that  the 
reindeer  are  not  seen  at  their  best,  because  it  is  too 
warm  for  them  (twelve  or  fourteen  degrees  above  zero)! 
In  fact,  one  of  the  poor  creatures,  on  being  unharnessed, 
seemed  to  be  suffocating  ;  and,  to  restore  her,  they  cov- 
ered her  with"  snow. 

Tliese  sledges  and  these  reindeer  carried  my  imagina- 
tion away  into  their  polar  country  with  a  kind  of  whim- 
sical nostalgia.  A  strange  passion  for  cold  seized  upon 
me — who  have  spent  my  life  in  seeking  the  sun !  It 
was  the  spell  of  the  North;  and  had  not  important  work 
retained  me  at  St.  Petersburg,  I  should  have  gone  away 
with  the  Samoyeds.  What  deliiyht  to  fly  with  all  speed 
toward  the  pole  with  its  crown  of  auroras — first,  through 
pine  forests  weighed  down  with  snow;  then,  through 
half -buried  birches;  then,  through  the  white,  spotless 
immensity,  over  the  sparkling  snow, — strange  region,  by 
its  silvery  tint  suggesting  a  journey  across  the  lunar 
■surface, — and  in  an  atmosphere,  keen,  cutting,  icy  as 
steel,  wherein  nothing,  not  even  death,  can  grow  cor- 
rupt !  I  should  have  been  glad  to  live  for  a  few  days 
under  that  tent  varnished  by  the  frost,  half-buried  in 
the  snow  which  the  reindeer  scratch  up  with  their  feet, 


WINTER.  Ill 

to  find  Tmcler  it  some  small,  infroqnont  moss.  Luckily, 
the  Samoyeds  wei-e  off,  one  iine  morning,  and,  going 
down  to  the  river  to  see  them  again,  I  fonnd  nothing 
but  the  grayish  circle  marking  where  their  Imt  had 
stood.     With  them,  the  sj^ell  vanished. 

Since  we  are  ni)on  the  Neva,  let  ns  notice  the  singular 
aspect  which  is  given  to  it  by  these  cubes  of  ice,  cut  from 
its  thick-frozen  crust,  and  left  lying  here  and  there,  like 
blocks  of  hewn  stone,  waiting  to  be  removed.  You 
might  fancy  they  had  been  working  a  crystal  or  diamond 
quarry.  These  transparent  cubes  take  strange,  pris- 
matic tints,  as  the  light  traverses  them,  and  put  on  all 
the  coloi-s  of  the  solar  s})ectrum  ;  in  some  places  where 
they  lie  heaped  up,  they  suggest  a  fairy  palace  in  ruins, 
especially  at  evening,  when  the  sun  is  setting  in  a  sky 
of  golden  green,  streaked  at  the  horizon  with  bands  of 
carmine.  These  are  effects  astonishing  to  the  eye,  and 
which  the  painter  dares  not  render,  lest  he  be  taxed 
with  exaggeration  or  falsehood.  Imagine  a  long,  snowy 
valley,  fV)nned  by  the  bed  of  a  river,  with  rosy  lights 
and  blue  shadows,  strewn  with  colossal  diamondsJ)laz- 
ing  like  chandeliers, — the  valley  terminating  with  the 
de'ep  red  line  of  the  horizon  ;  to  heighten  the  effect, 
in  the  foreground,  some  boat  held  in  the  ice,  some 
pedestrian  or  sledge  crossing  from  one  qnay  to  the 
other. 

After  nightfall,  if  you  look  down  from  the  side  of 
the  fortress,  you  will  see,  stretching  across  the  river,  two 
parallel  lines  of  stars;  it  is  the  light  from  lamp-posts 
erected  in  the  ice,  where  the  bridge  of  boats  of  Troizky 
has  been  taken  up ;  for  the  Neva,  as  soon  as  it  is  frozen 
over,  becomes  a  second  Newsk}^  Prospekt  for  St.  Peters- 
burg :  it  is  like  a  main  artery  of  the  city.  We,  of  tem- 
perate regions,  accustomed  to  see  only  floating  ice  in 
our  rivers  even  in  the  severe  seasons,  can  hardly  escape 
a  slight  feeling  of  anxiety  when  we  traverse,  in  a  car- 
riage or  sledge,  an  immense  river,  whose  dee]i  watt'rs 
are  flowing  silently  under  the  crystal  floor,  which  might 


112  A  WINTER  m   RUSSIA. 

give  way,  and  then  close  over  you  like  an  English  trap- 
door! But  the  perfect  tranquillity  of  the  Russians  re- 
assures 3'ou ;  enormous  weights,  indeed,  would  be  re- 
quired to  break  this  layer  of  ice,  two  or  three  feet  in 
thickness,  and  the  snow  which  covers  it  gives  it  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  plain.  ISTothing  distinguishes  the  river 
from  the  solid  ground  save  where,  along  the  gi'eat  walls 
of  the  quays,  winter  a  few  scattered  vessels,  caught  un- 
expectedly in  the  ice. 

The  Neva  is  a  power  at  St.  Petersburg;  they  do 
honor  to  it,  and  bless  its  waters  with  great  pomi).  This 
ceremony,  wliich  is  called  the  baptism  of  the  ISTeva,  oc- 
curs on  the  Ilussian  6th  of  January.  I  saw  it  from  a 
window  of  the  Winter  Palace,  to  which  I  was  graciously 
given  admittance.  Although  it  was  a  very  mild  day  for 
the  season,  which  is  ordinarily  the  time  for  the  severest 
cold,  it  would  have  been  hard  for  me,  as  yet  not  well 
acclimated,  to  stand  an  hour  or  two,  bareheaded,  upon 
this  frigid  quay  where  the  biting  wind  blows  incessantly. 
The  vast  halls  of  the  palace  were  crowded  with  persons 
of  distinction  :  high  ofricuals,  ministers,  the  diplomatic 
corps,  generals  all  gold  lace  and  decorations,  came  and 
went  between  lines  of  soldiers  in  full  nniform,  before 
the  ceremony  began.  First,  divine  service  was  cele- 
brated in  the  palace-chapel.  From  the  back  of  the  gal- 
lery, I  watched  with  respectful  interest  the  rites  of  this 
worship  new  to  me,  and  stamped  with  the  mysterious 
majesty  of  the  East.  From  time  to  time  the  priest,  a 
venerable,  long-bearded,  long-haired  old  man,  mitred 
like  a  magian,  clad  in  a  dalmatic  stiff  with  gold  and 
silver,  and  supported  by  two  acolytes,  came  out  from 
the  sanctuary,  whose  doors  opened  to  give  him  egress, 
and  recited  the  saci-ed  formulas  in  a  voice  senile  but 
still  perfectly  distinct.  "While  ho  was  chanting  the 
psalms,  I  saw,  amid  the  glitter  of  gold  and  candles,  the 
Emperor  and  the  Imperial  family  within  the  sanctuary  ; 
then  the  dooi's  were  closed,  and  the  service  went  on  be- 
hind the  dazzlino-  screen  of  the  iconostase. 


WINTER.  113 

The  choristers,  in  superb  dress  of  nacarat  velvet, 
braided  witli  gold,  accompanied  and  sustained,  with  the 
marvellous  precision  of  Russian  clioirs,  h^-mns  wherein 
surely  must  be  more  than  one  old  theme  of  the  lost 
music  of  the  Greeks, 

Ma^  being  ended,  the  procession  began  to  move,  and 
defiled  through  the  halls  of  the  palace,  on  its  way  to  the 
baptism,  or,  more  properly,  the  consecration,  of  the 
Neva.  The  Emperor  and  the  Grand-Dukes  in  unifoj-m, 
the  clergy  with  copes  of  gold  and  silver  brocade,  those 
line  sacerdotal  robes  of  the  Byzantine  fashion,  the  parti- 
colored crowd  of  generals  and  great  officers,  traversing 
this  compact  mass  of  troo]3s  drawn  up  in  line  in  the 
halls,  formed  a  brilliant  and  impressive  spectacle. 

Upon  the  Neva,  in  front  of  the  Winter  Palace,  and 
close  to  tlie  quay,  to  which  it  was  joined  by  steps  covered 
with  car])eting,  a  pavilion  was  erected,  or  rather  a 
chapel,  with  light  columns  painted  green  supporting  a 
latticed  cupola,  whence  was  suspended  a  Dove  sur- 
rounded by  rays. 

In  the  centre  of  the  floor,  under  tliis  dome,  opened 
the  mouth  of  a  well,  guarded  by  a  balustrade,  and  com- 
municating with  the  water  of  the  Neva,  the  ice  having 
been  cut  away  at  that  place.  A  line  of  soldiei's,  stand- 
ing at  considerable  intervals  fi'om  one  another,  kept  the 
S])ace  free  u])on  the  river  for  some  distance  from  the 
chapel  ;  bareheaded  they  stood,  their  helmets  on  the 
ground  beside  them,  their  feet  in  the  snow, — so  motion- 
less that  they  might  have  been  guide-posts. 

Under  the  palace-windows  fretted,  held  in  by  their 
riders,  the  horses  of  the  Circassians,  Lesghines,  Tcher- 
kesses,  and  Cossacks,  who  compose  the  Emperor's  es- 
cort ;  it  is  a  strange  sensation  to  see  in  the  midst  of  civ- 
ilization, elsewhere  than  at  tlie  Ilipjjodrome  or  the 
Opera,  warriors  like  tliose  of  the  Middle  Ages,  with 
hchnet  and  coat  of  mail,  armed  with  bow  and  arrows ; 
or  clad  in  oiiental  fashion,  having  a  Persian  car]')et  for 
a  saddle,  for  sabre  a  Damascus  blade,  engraved  with 


114  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

verses  from  the  Koran  ;  and  perfectly  suited  to  figure 
in  the  cavalcade  of  an  emir  or  a  caliph. 

How  martial  and  fierce  the  faces,— what  savaj^e  pu- 
rit}^  of  type, — w])at  slender  figures,  supple  and  ner- 
vous,— what  elegant  bearing,  in  these  costumes  so 
cliaracteristic  in  cut,  so  well  adapted  to  enhance  hu- 
man beauty !  \  It  is  truly  singular  that  the  people  who 
are  called  harbarians  are  the  only  ones  who  know  how 
to  clothe  themselves  becomingly.  The  civilized  man 
lias  entirely  lost  the  feeling  for  costumes,  t 

The  procession  emerged  from  the  palace,  and  as  I 
stood  at  my  window  I  saw,  through  tlie  double  glass, 
the  Emperor,  the  Grand-Dukes,  and  the  priests  enter 
the  ])avili()n,  which  became  so  full  that  it  was  difficult 
to  distinguish  the  gestures  of  those  officiating  about  the 
orifice  of  the  well. 

Cannon  from  across  the  river,  ranged  on  the  quay  of 
the  Exchange,  fired  successiveh',  at  the  grand  moment. 
A  great  ball  of  bluish  smoke,  cut  by  a  flash  of  flame, 
burst  out  between  the  river,  with  its  snowy  carpet,  and 
the  grayish  whiteof  the  sky  ;  to  it  followed  a  detonation 
that  shook  all  the  windows  of  the  palace.  The  reports 
succeeded  one  another  with  perfect  regularity,  and  with- 
out the  interval  of  a  second  of  time.  Tlie  cannon  has 
something  terrible,  solemn,  and  yet,  like  all  things 
strong,  something  joyous  about  it ;  its  voice,  which  roars 
in  battles,  mingles  equally  well  with  festivities ;  it 
adds  that  element  of  joy  unknown  to  the  ancients,  who 
had  neither  bells  nor  guns, — noise  !  It,  only,  can  speak 
amid  great  multitudes,  and  make  itself  heard  in  the  im- 
mensities. 

The  ceremony  was  ended ;  the  troops  defiled  away, 
and  the  spectators  withdrew  peaceal)ly,  without  confu- 
sion, without  tumult, — ^as  is  the  habit  of  a  Ilussiaa 
crowd,  the  most  quiet  crowd  in  the  world. 


IX. 

EA0E8   ON   THE   NEVA. 

"  TXT'Il^T !  are  wc  not  going  home  soon  ?     Keally,  it 

VV  is  a  sin  to  keep  a  man  out  doors  so  lonp;,  iu  a 
temperature  like  this !  Have  you  sworn  to  make  ns 
fi-eeze  our  ears  and  our  noses?"  I  liave  promised  to 
show  you  a  Russian  winter,  and  I  am  keeping  my  word 
—  besides,  the  thermometer  scarcely  falls  below  20°  to- 
day ;  this  is  almost  like  spring ;  the  Samoyeds  who 
camped  upon  the  frozen  river,  were  obliged  to  go  away 
because  it  was  growing  too  warm.  Don't  be  anxious, 
but  follow  bravely.  The  horses  are  fretting  before  the 
door,  eager  for  the  start. 

They  are  ra(iing  to-day  on  the  Neva ;  we  must  not  neg- 
lect the  opportunity  of  making  acquaintance  with  these 
Northern  races,  which  are  as  elegant,  as  extravagant,  as 
characteristic,  and  as  exciting,  as  anything  of  the  kind 
iu  England  or  in  France. 

The  Newsky  Prospekt  and  the  streets  leading  into 
the  grand  square,  where  rises  the  column  of  Alexander, 
— that  gigantic  monolith  of  red  granite  which  surpasses 
the  Egyptian  enormities, — present  a  scene  of  extraordi- 
nary animation,  almost  ecpial  to  the  Charaps-Elysees 
when  a  steeple-chase  at  la  Marche  calls  out  the  carriages 
of  the  fashionable  world. 

The  troik'as  go  by,  their  little  bells  all  vibrating,  their 
three  horses,  pulling  fan-wise,  each  with  a  different 
gait;  the  sledges  si)in  along  n[)on  their  steel  runners, 
the  coachmen,  in  four-sided  velvet  caps  and  blue  or 
green  caftans,  with  difficulty  controlling  the  sj^lendid 
steppers.  Other  sledges,  double-seated  and  having  two 
horses,  coaches   and   open  carriages,  dismounted  from 


IIG  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

tlieir  wheels  and  set  on  runners,  are  taking  the  same  di- 
rection, and  the  crowd  of  vehicles  grows  every  moment 
more  and  more  dense.  l\o\v  and  then  a  sledge  of  the  old 
Russian  style,  with  its  leather  apron  stretched  like  a  stud- 
ding-sail, and  its  little  shaggy  horse  galloping  alongside 
his  mate  the  trotter,  slips  along,  in  and  out,  tlirough  the 
crowd,  impatient  and  rapid,  powdering  its  neighbors 
with  white  particles. 

A  gathering  like  this  in  Paris  would  produce  a  great 
noise,  a  prodigious  uproar ;  but  at  St.  Petersburg  the 
picture  is  only  noisy  to  the  eye,  if  I  may  so  express  my- 
self. The  snow,  which  interposes  its  padding  between 
the  pavement  and  the  veiiicle,  deadens  the  sound  en- 
tirely. Upon  these  roads,  which  winter  has  so  carefully 
wadded,  the  steel  of  the  runner  makes  scarcely  as  much 
noise  as  the  diamond  scratching  a  pane  of  gUiss.  There 
is  no  snap  to  the  small  whip  of  the  mujik ;  the  masters, 
wrapped  in  fur,  do  not  talk,  for  their  words  would 
freeze,  like  those  Panurge  tells  of  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  pole.  Everything  is  astir  with  silent  activity  in 
the  midst  of  a  mute  whirlwind.  Although  tliere  is 
nothino;  it  less  resembles,  all  this  has  in  a  slicrht  deijree 
the  same  effect  as  V  enice. 

Pedestrians  are  rare,  for,  as  I  have  said,  nobody 
walks  in  Russia  except  the  mujiks,  whose  felt  boots 
help  them  to  keep  their  balance  on  the  sidewalks,  which 
are  kept  clean  ft-om  snow,  but  are  often  glass}^  with  ice, 
and  especially  dangerous  when  one  is  shod  with  the  in- 
dispensable overshoes. 

I3etween  the  Admiralty  and  the  ^Vinter  Palace  is  the 
wooden  planking  which  goes  down  from  the  quay  to  the 
Xeva  ;  here  the  sledges  and  other  vehicles,  falling  into 
line,  are  obliged  to  slaken  their  speed  very  considerably, 
and  sometimes  even  to  stop,  waiting  their  turn  to 
descend. 

I  pi'ofit  by  the  pause  to  examine  my  neighbors.  The 
men  are  in  pelisses,  and  wear  the  military  undress  cap, 
or  else  a  cap  of  some  f  iir ;  there  is  scarcely  a  hat  to  be 


RAGES  ON  TEE  NEVA.  II7 

seen.  At  a  temperature  like  this,  one  is  natnrall}'  shy 
of  exposing  the  base  of  the  skull  to  the  icy  douche  of 
the  north-wind.  Tlie  women  ai-e  less  warmly  clad.  It 
would  seem  that  they  feel  the  cold  far  less  than  men  do. 
The  black  satin  ])elirise,  lined  with  sable  or  Siberian  blue 
fox  is  all  that  they  add  to  their  carriage  dress,  other- 
wise exactly  resembling  the  most  elegant  Parisian  toi- 
lettes. The  white  throat,  which  no  cold  air  seems  able 
to  redden,  emerges  bare  and  free  of  tippet,  and  the 
head  is  shielded  only  by  a  dainty  French  bonnet,  which 
does  not  cover  the  hair.  I  thought  with  alarm  of  the 
influenzas,  the  neuralgias,  the  rheumatisms,  which  these 
intrepid  beauties  were  willing  to  risk  for  the  pleasure 
of  being  in  the  fashion,  and  exhibiting  their  rich  locks, 
in  a  country  and  a  climate  where  to  lift  the  hat  in  a  sa- 
lute is  sometimes  a  perilous  action ;  animated  by  the 
fire  of  coquetry,  they  do  not  seem  to  know  what  it  is  to 
suffer  from  the  cold. 

Russia,  with  its  immense  territory,  includes  many 
difterent  races,  and  the  t3'pe  of  feminine  beauty  varies 
much.  One  may,  however,  indicate  as  characteristic, 
an  extreme  fairness  of  complexion,  grayish-blue  eyes, 
blonde  or  chestnut  hair,  and  a  certain  emboiipohit,  aris- 
ing from  the  lack  of  exercise  and  the  life  in-doors, 
Avhich  is  compelled  by  a  winter  lastiug  seven  or  eight 
months.  They  suggest  the  idea  of  odaliscpies,  whom 
the  Genius  of  the  JN^orth  keeps  confined  in  the  tropical 
atmosphere  of  a  hothouse.  They  have  comj^lexions  of 
cold-cream  and  snow,  with  tints  from  the  heart  of  a 
camellia — like  those  ever-veiled  women  of  the  Seraglio 
whose  skin  the  sunlight  has  not  touched.  By  this  ex- 
treme fairness,  their  delicate  features  are  rendered 
even  more  delicate  ;  and  the  softened  outlines  form 
faces  of  Hyperborean  sweetness  and  polar  grace. 

At  this  very  moment,  as  if  to  contradict  my  descrip- 
tion, in  the  sledge  which  luis  just  drawn  up  by  the  side 
of  my  troika,  shines  a  radiant  Southern  beauty  ;  the 
eyebrows   black    and  velvety,  the   aquiline   nose,  the 


118  A  WmTEE  IN  EUSSIA. 

lengthened  oval  of  the  face,  the  brunette  complexion, 
the  lips  red  as  pomegranates,  all  betray  the  pure  Cauca- 
sian type  ; — a  Circassian,  and,  for  all  I  know,  a  Maliome- 
tan.  Here  and  there,  eyes  long  and  narrow,  and  rising 
a  little  at  the  outer  angle,  remind  us  that,  at  one  ex- 
treme, Russia  touches  upon  China ;  charming  little 
Finns  with  eyes  of  turqnoise  bine,  pale  golden  hair,  and 
tint,  pnre  red  and  white,  conti'ast  well  with  those  hand- 
some Greek  women  from  Odessa,  whom  you  recognize 
by  the  straight  nose  and  great  black  eyes,  like  those  of 
the  Byzantine  madonnas.  It  makes  a  charming  pic- 
ture,— these  lovely  heads  emerging,  like  winter  iiowers, 
from  a  mass  of  furs,  which  is  itself  covered  by  the 
■white  or  black  bear-skin  thrown  over  all. 

We  came  down  npon  the  ice  by  a  broad  wooden 
slope  (resembling  that  which,  in  the  ancient  Olympian 
circus,  united  the  theati-e  with  the  arena)  between  the 
bronze  lions  of  the  quay,  whose  pedestals,  when  the 
]-i\-er  is  open,  mark  the  landing-place. 

On  the  day  which  I  am  describing,  the  sky  had  not 
that  keen,  intense  color  which  it  assnmes  when  the  cold 
reaches  zero.  An  immense  canopy  of  clond  of  a  very 
soft  and  fine  pearl-gra}^,  holding  snow  suspended,  hung 
over  the  city,  and  seemed  to  rest  npon  the  towers  and 
spires  as  u])on  pillars  of  gold.  This  quiet  and  neutral 
tint  set  off  to  nnusual  advantage  the  buildings  with 
their  delicate  coloring  relieved  by  fillets  of  silvery 
snow.  In  front  we  saw  across  the  river,  looking  like  a 
valley  half  filled  by  avalanches,  the  columns  of  red 
granite  ornamented  with  prows  of  ships,  which  stand 
near  the  cdassic  Exchange.  At  the  point  of  the  island 
which  divides  the  Neva  into  two  streams,  the  needle  of 
the  fortress  raised  its  aspiring  golden  point,  rendered 
yet  more  vivid  by  the  gray  tint  of  the  sky. 

The  conrse, — with  its  board  stands,  and  its  track 
marlced  out  by  ropes  attached  to  stakes  set  in  the  ice, 
and  by  artificial  hedges  of  fir-branches, — stretched  diag- 
onally across  the  river.     The  crowd  of  people  and  car- 


RACES  ON  TUB  NEVA.  HQ 

riages  is  immense.  Privileged  persons  occnpicd  the 
stands,  if  it  be  a  privilege  to  remain  stationary  in  the 
cold  in  an  open  gallery !  Aronnd  the  track  are  crowded, 
two  or  three  deep,  sledges,  troikas,  open  carriages,  and 
even  sinjple  telegas  and  other  vehicles  more  or  less 
])rimitive ;  for  no  restriction  seems  to  ham])er  tliis 
pnblic  amnsemcnt :  the  river  is  free  to  alL  Men  and 
women,  in  order  to  have  a  better  view,  tnrn  out  their 
coachmen,  stand  upon  the  seats  and  the  boxes.  Nearer 
the  barriers  are  the  mujiks  in  their  sheepskin  touloupes 
and  felt  boots,  soldiers  in  gray  capotes,  and  other  persons 
who  have  not  been  able  to  secure  a  better  place.  All 
this  crowd,  astir  like  a  mighty  ant-hill  on  the  icy  floor 
of  the  Neva,  was  a  scene  not  to  be  witnessed  without 
anxiety, — by  me  at  least ;  for  I  could  not  forget  that  a 
deep  river,  as  large,  at  least,  as  the  Thames  at  London 
Bridge,  flowed  beneath  this  frozen  crust,  two  or  three 
feet  deep  at  most,  upon  wliich  was  the  weight  of  thou- 
sands of  people  closely  crowded  together,  and  a  great 
number  of  horses,  not  to  mention  equipages  of  every 
description.  But  the  Knssian  winter  is  to  be  depended 
on  ;  it  never  plays  the  trick  of  opening  trap-doors  under 
the  crowd  and  swallowing  them  up. 

Outside  the  course,  jockeys  were  exercising  the  horses 
who  had  not  yet  been  on  the  ti-ack,  or  leading  about,  to 
cool  them  gradually  under  their  Persian  rugs,  the  noble 
animals  who  had  furnished  their  share  of  the  day's 
annisement. 

The  track  is  a  kind  of  Icngtliened  ellipse  ;  the  sledges 
do  not  start  abreast,  l)ut  are  stationed  at  e(pial  intervals  ; 
these  iutervals  diminishing  or  increasing  according  to 
the  speed  of  the  horses.  Two  sledges  take  their  posi- 
tion in  front  of  the  staiuls,  and  two  others  at  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  ellipse,  awaiting  the  sigiuil  of  departure. 
Sometimes  a  man  on  horseback  gallojjs  at  the  side  of 
the  horse  in  harness  to  stinudate  him  through  rivalry  to 
the  utmost  exertion.  The  horse  in  the  sledge  only  trots, 
but  his  pace  is  sometimes  so  rapid  that  the  other  cau 


120  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

liardly  keep  up  with  him  ;  and  once  under  good  head- 
way, abandons  him  to  his  own  impulse.  Many  drivers, 
sure  of  their  animals,  scorn  to  employ  this  resource, 
and  make  the  race  alone.  Any  horse  who  breaks  into 
a  gallop  h)ses  his  chance,  if  he  makes  more  than  six 
boimds  before  being  brought  back  to  the  prescribed 
gait. 

It  is  marvellous  to  see  these  splendid  creatures,  for 
whom  wild  prices  are  often  paid,  spin  along  over  the 
level  ice,  which,  swept  clear  of  snov/,  is  like  a  belt  of 
dull-colored  glass.  The  vapor  comes  from  their  scarlet 
nostrils  in  long  jets  ;  their  Hanks  are  bathed  in  a  kind 
of  mist,  and  their  tails  seem  powdered  with  diamond 
dust.  The  nails  in  their  shoes  bite  into  the  level  and 
slippery  surface,  and  they  devour  the  distance  with  the 
same  proud  security  with  which  they  would  tread  the 
best-kept  roads  of  a  park.  The  di-ivers,  leaning  back- 
ward, grasp  the  reins  with  their  utmost  strength ;  for 
horses  so  powerful  as  these  having  only  a  light  weight 
behind  them,  and,  not  allowed  to'break  into  a  gallop, 
require  to  be  restrained  rather  than  urged.  And  they 
find,  too,  in  this  tension,  a  point  of  support  which  allows 
them  to  abandon  themselves  to  their  headlong  pace. 
What  prodigious  steps  these  creatures  take,  looking  as 
if  tliey  would  bite  their  knees  ! 

I  could  not  discover  that  any  special  conditions  re- 
garding age  or  weight  were  imposed  upon  the  contest- 
ants, oidy  an  amount  of  speed  in  a  fixed  time,  measured 
by  a  chronometer, — or,  at  least,  so  it  appeared  to  me. 
Occasionally,  troikas  enter  the  lists  against  sledges  hav- 
ing one  or  two  horses.  Each  man  selects  the  vehicle 
an\l  number  of  horses  which  seem  best  to  suit  him. 
Horaetiyaes  even  a  spectator,  who  has  been  sitting  in  his 
sledge  and  looking  on,  will  take  a  fancy  to  try  his  luck, 
— and  forthwith  he  enters  the  lists. 

At  the  race  which  I  am  describing,  a  very  picturesque 
incident  occurred.  A  mujik, — from  Vladimir,  it  was 
said, — who  had  come  into  the  city  bringing  wood  or 


RACES  ON  THE  NEVA.  121 

frozen  provisions,  stood  looking  on  from  the  liciglit  of 
his  rustic  troika.  lie  was  clad  in  the  nsual  greasy 
toulonpe,  with  an  old  matted  fur  ca}),  and  felt  boots 
white  with  hard  service;  a  beard  unkempt  and  lustreless 
bristled  u]X)n  his  chin.  lie  liad  a  team  of  three  little 
horses,  dishevelled,  wild-looking,  sliaggy  as  bears, 
frightfully  filthy,  with  icicles  hanging  down  under- 
neath them,  carrying  their  heads  low,  and  biting  at  the 
snow  heaped  up  in  masses  on  the  river.  A  douga  like 
a  Gothic  window,  painted  with  glaring  colors  in  stripes 
and  zigzags,  was  the  part  of  the  equi])agc  on  which 
most  care  had  been  bestowed — doubtless  was  the  work 
of  the  mujik's  own  hatchet. 

This  wild  and  primitive  equipage  offered  the  strang- 
est ]:)Ossible  contrast  to  the  luxurious  sledges,  the  trium- 
phant troikas,  and  all  the  other  elegant  vehicles 
which  stood  drawn  np  along  the  edges  oi  the  track. 
More  than  one  laughing  glance  ridiculed  the  humble 
troika.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  in  this  brilliant  scene  it 
had  nnich  the  same  effect  as  a  spot  of  wheel-grease  on 
an  ermine  mantle. 

But  tlie  little  horses,  whose  hair  was  all  matted  with 
frozen  sweat,  looked  out  scornfully  through  their  stiff- 
ened, shagg}^  fore-locks  at  the  high-bred  animals  that 
seemed  to  shrink  away  from  contact  with  Ihem, — for 
animals — like  the  rest  of  us! — feel  a  contempt  for  poverty. 
A  gleam  of  fire  shone  in  their  sombre  eyes,  and  they 
struck  the  ice  with  the  small  shoes  attached  to  their 
slender,  sinewy  legs,  bearded  like  an  eagle's  quills. 

The  mujik,  standing  upon  the  seat,  contemplated  the 
course,  without  ajipcariug  in  the  least  sur[)rised  by  the 
prowess  of  the  horses.  Now  and  then,  even,  a  faint 
^milc  gleamed  below  the  frozen  crystals  of  his  nnis- 
tache,  his  gray  eyes  sparkled  mischievously,  and  he 
seemed  to  say  :  "We,  loo,  could  do  as  njuch." 

Taking  a  sudden  resolve,  he  entered  the  lists  to  try 
his  luck.  The  three  little  unlicked  bears  shook  their 
heads  proudly,  as  if  they  understood  that  they  were  to 
6 


122  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

maintain  the  honor  of  the  poor  horse  of  the  steppes, 
and,  without  being  urged,  they  went  off  at  such  a  pace, 
that  everybody  else  on  the  track  began  to  take  the  alarm ; 
they  went  like  the  wind,  with  their  little,  slender  limbs, 
and  they  carried  off  the  victory  from  all  the  others, — thor- 
ough-breds  of  English  race,  barbs,  and  Orlov  horses,— 
by  a.  minute  and'  some  seconds  !  The  mujik  had  not 
presumed  too  much  upon  his  rustic  steeds. 

The  prize  was  adjudged  to  him,  a  magnificent  piece 
of  chased  silver  by  Vaillant,  the  most  fashionable  gold- 
smith in  St.  Petersburg.  This  triumph  excited  a  noisy 
enthusiasm  among  the  crowd  usually  so  silent  and  so 
calm. 

As  the  conqueror  came  off,  he  was  surrounded  by 
amateurs,  proposing  to  buy  his  three  horses ;  they  went 
so  far  as  to  offer  liim  three  thousand  rubles  apiece,  an 
enormous  sum  for  beasts  and  man  both.  To  his  credit 
be  it  said,  the  mujik  persistently  refused.  He  wrapped 
his  piece  of  silver  in  a  fragment  of  old  cloth;  climbed 
upon  his  troika,  and  went  back  as  lie  cauie,  not  willing 
at  any  price  to  part  from  the  [';ood  little  creatures  who 
had  made  him  for  the  moment  the  lion  of  St.  Peters- 
burg. 

The  races  were  over,  and  the  carriages  came  off  the 
river,  and  took  their  way  to  the  several  quarters  of  the 
town ;  the  ascent  of  the  wooden  slopes  which  unite  the 
Neva  to  the  quays  would  furnish  a  painter  of  horses — 
Twertzkov,  for  example — \vith  the  material  for  an  inter- 
esting and  characteristic  picture.  The  slope  is  very 
abrupt,  and  the  noble  animals  curve  their  necks,  and 
grasp  the  slippery  planks  with  their  hoofs,  and  crowd 
themselves  down  upon  their  sinewy  houghs ;  it  is  a 
scene  of  confusion  full  of  picturesque  effects,  and  would 
become  dangerous,  were  it  not  for  the  skill  of  the  Rus- 
sian coachmen.  The  sledges  go  up  four  or  five  abreast,  in^ 
irregular  line,  and  more  than  once  I  felt  on  the  back  of 
my  neck  the  hot  breath  of  some  impatient  thorough-bred, 
who  would  have  made  no  difficulty  about  going  straight 


BACE8  ON  THE  NEVA.  123 

over  my  head  if  he  had  not  been  hekl  m  with  a  vigor- 
ous hand  ;  and  now  and  then  was  hoard  a  Httle  scream, 
when  some  Hake  of  foam  dro})pin<>-  from  a  silver  bit, 
rested  on  a  hidy's  bonnet.  Tlie  scene  made  me  think  of 
an  army  of  chariots  assanlting  the  granite  quays,  whicli 
liad  a  considerable  resemblance  to  the  parapets  of  a 
fortress.  Notwithstanding  the  tnnmlt,  there  was  no 
accident ;  the  absence  of  wheels  makes  it  difficulty  for  a 
collision  to  occur,  and  the  equipages  dispersed  in  all 
directions  with  a  rapidity  which  would  have  alarmed 
Parisian  prudence. 

It  is  a  genmne  delight,  when  a  man  has  been  in  the 
open  air  for  two  or  three  hours,  exposed  to  a  wind  which 
has  blown  across  the  snows  of  the  pole_,  to  return  home, 
and  get  off  your  pelisse,  take  your  feet  out  of  over- 
shoes, wipe  the  melting  icicles  from  your  mustache,  and 
light  a  cigar, — which"  latter  luxaiy  can  be  enjoyed,  it 
will  be  remembered,  only  within  doors.  The  warm 
atmosphere  of  the  stove  wraps  your  toi'pid  frame  caress- 
ingly, and  restores  suppleness  to  your  limbs.  A  glass  of 
very  hot  tea — in  Russia  you  do  not  drink  your  tea  from 
a  cup— completes  the  work  of  making  you,  as  the  Eng- 
lish say,  "  quite  comfortable."  Suspended  circulation 
is  renewed,  and  you  taste  that  in-door  pleasure  which, 
the  Southern  man,  living  altogether  in  tlie  open  air, 
knows  not  of.  But  already  the'day  is  declining;  night 
comes  on  early  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  after  three  o'clock 
lamplight  is  required.  Culinary  vapors  escape  from  the 
chinmeys ;  in  every  house  the  kitchen-stove  is  in  full 
blast,  for  they  dine  earlier  in  the  city  of  the  Czars  than 
we  do  in  Paris.  Six  o'clock  is  the  very  latest,  and  this 
only  with  ]ieople  who  have  travelled,  and  borrowed 
rrcnch  or  English  customs.  But  I  am  invited  out  to 
dinner  in  the  city;  toilette  must  be  made,  the  pelisse 
drawn  on  again  over  the  black  coat,  and  thin  boots 
plunged  anew  into  the  heavy  furred  overshoes. 

Y/ith   the  coming  on  of   night,  the   air  has  groAvn 
colder  ;  an  absolutely  arctic  w^'nd  drives  the  snow  like 


124  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

smoke  along  the  sidewalks.  The  road  creaks  under 
the  runners  of  the  sledge.  In  the  depths  of  a  sky 
swept  clear  of  all  vapors'shhie  the  stars,  large  and  pale, 
and  through  the  darkness,  upon  the  gilded  dome  of  St. 
Isaac's,  shines  a  point  of  intense  light,  a  lamp  of  the 
sanctuary  never  extinguished. 

Drawing  the  collar  of  my  pelisse  up  to  my  eyes,  and 
pulling  the  bear-skin  of  the  sledge  over  my  knees,  I 
lind  myself  soon,  by  means  of  the  mystic  words  na 
j)rava,  na  leva  (to  the  right !  to  the  left !)  in  front  of  the 
house  where  I  am  expected — not  having  at  all  suffered 
by  the  difference  of  seventy  degrees  from  the  warmth 
of  my  apartment  to  the  cold  of  the  street.  At  the 
foot  of  m.y  friend's  staircase,  the  atmosphere,  like  that 
of  a  heated  conservatory,  seizes  upon  me  ;  it  thaws  out 
my  beard,  and  in  the  ante-chamber,  the  servant,  an  old 
soldier  who  still  keeps  his  military  capote,  relieves  me 
of  my  fur  garments  which  he  hangs  up  among  those  of 
the  other  guests,  who  are  already  all  arrived — punctu- 
ality is  a  Russian  virtue.  In  Russia,  Louis  XIV.  would 
never  have  had  reason  to  say  :  "  I  almost  had  to  wait  1 " 


DETAILS    OF    INTERIORS. 

THERE  is  something  very  peculiar  in  the  appear- 
ance of  a  Russian  ante-room.  Pelisses  hanging 
from  the  rack,  with  their  limp  sleeves  and  straight, 
heavy  folds,  vaguely  suggest  the  human  ligure ;  the 
overshoes  phiced  beneath,  simulate  feet  ;  the  general 
.effect  of  all  these  furi-y  objects,  seen  by  the  uncertain 
light  of  a  small  lamp  suspended  from  the  ceiling,  is 
fantastic  in  the  extreme.  Achim  von  Arnim  would  dis- 
cern with  his  imaginative  eye  the  outside  garments  of 
M.  I'eau  d'Ours,  paying  a  visit  within  ;  Hoffman  would 
ensconce  grotesque  phantoms  of  archivists  or  of  aulic 
councillors  behind  their  mysterious  folds.  I,  who  am 
but  a  Frenchman,  and  reduced  to  Perrault's  tales,  only 
see  therei]!  the  seven  wives  of  Bluebeard  in  the  black 
closet !  Hanging  in  this  way  near  the  stove,  these  fur 
garments  become  impregnated  with  heat,  which  they 
retain  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  outside  air.'  The  ser- 
vants have  a  marvellous  instinct  for  identifying  them ; 
even  when  the  number  of  guests  is  so  great  that  the 
ante-room  looks  like  Michel's  or  Zimmerman's  shop, 
they  never  mistake,  and  lay  u})on  the  shoulders  of  each 
man  the  garment  wdiich  belongs  to  him. 

A  comfortable  suite  of  rooms  at  St.  Petersburg 
gathers  all  the  luxuries  of  English  and  of  French  civili- 
zation ;  at  the  first  glance  you  would  think  yourself  in 
the  West-end,  or  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore  ;  soon,  how- 
ever, the  local  character  betrays  itself  by  a  multitude  of 
curious  details.  First  of  all,  the  Byzantine  Madonna 
and  Child — the  brown  face  and  hands  showiuii-  throuij-h 


126  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

apertures  cut  in  the  yeueeriiio;  of  silver  or  silver-gilt, 
which  represents  drapery — ^glitters  iu  the  light  of  an 
ever-burning  lamp,  and  notifies  you  that  you 
are  neitherin  Paris  nor  in  London,  but  in  orthodox 
Eussia — in  Holy  Ilnssia  !  Occasionally,  an  image  of 
Christ  takes  the  place  of  the  Yii-gin,  and  frequently  a 
saint  is  to  be  seen, — the  patron  saint  of  the  master  or 
mistress  of  the  house, — covered  with  plates  of  gold  or 
silver,  like  a  tortoise  in  its  sIiqII,  and  having  a  golden 
lialo  about  the  head.  Furthermore,  the  climate  makes 
certain  requisitions  which  cannot  be  evaded.  The  win- 
dows are  invariably  double,  and  the  space  between  the 
sashes  is  covered  with  a  layer  of  fine  sand  designed  to 
al)sorb  moisture,  and  prevent  the  frost  from  silvering 
the  panes.  Twisted  horns  of  paper  containing  salt  are 
set  in  it,  and  sometimes  the  sand  is  concealed  by  a  bed 
of  moss.  There  are  no  outside  shutters  or  blinds,  for 
they  would  be  useless,  since  the  windows  remain  closed 
all  winter,  being  carefully  tilled  in  around  the  edges 
with  a  kind  of  cement.  One  narrow,  movable  pane 
serves  to  admit  fresh  air,  but  its  use  is  disagreeable  and 
even  dangerous,  so  great  is  the  contrast  Ijetween  the 
temperature  without  and  that  within.  Heavy  curtains  of 
rich  material  still  further  deaden  the  effect  of  the  cold 
upon  the  glass,  a  substance  niuch  more  permeable  than 
is  generally  believed. 

The  rooms  are  larger  and  higher  than  in  Paris.  Our 
architects — so  ingenious  in  modelling  cells  for  the 
human  bee — would  cut  a  whole  suite,  and  frequently  a 
second  story,  out  of  one  St.  Petersburg  drawing-room. 
As  all  the  rooms  are  hermetically  sealed  against  the 
out-door  air,  and  even  the  common  halls  and  stairways 
are  heated,  the  temperature  never  falls  below  Q)Q°  or 
68°,  so  that  ladies  can  be  clad  in  muslins  and  have  their 
arms  and  shoulders  bare.  The  great  copper  mouths  of 
the  caloriferes  emit  heat  without  cessation,  by  night  as 
well  as  by  day,  and  their  hot-air  pipes,  and  also  huge 
porcelain  stoves,  white  or  painted  iu  colors,  and  reach- 


DETAILS  OF  INTERIORS.  127 

ing  to  the  ceiliiip;,  diffuse  a  stead}^  even  warmtli  in 
places  where  optniiiigs  cannot  conveniently  he  made  for 
the  caloriftres  themselves.  0])en  fireplaces  are  rare ; 
when  they  do  exist  they  are  used  only  in  spring  and 
autumn.  In  winter  they  would  carry  off  heat,  and 
actually  reduce  the  temperature  of  the  room.  They 
are  closed,  and  filled  with  flowers — flowers,  which  are  a 
truly  Russian  hixury  !  The  houses  ovei-flow  with  them  ; 
flowers  receive  you  at  the  door  and  go  with  you  up  the 
stairway;  Irish  ivies  festoon  the  hvi\\\'&{QY^, jardinieres 
adoi-n  the  landings  on  every  floor.  In  the  emhrasure 
of  the  windows,  hananas  spread  out  their  hroad,  silken 
leaves  ;  talipot  palms,  magnolias,  camellias  growing  like 
trees,  mingle  their  hlossoms  with  the  gilded  volutes  of 
the  cornices;  orchids  hover  like  butterflies  around  lamp- 
shades of  crystal,  ])orcelain,  and  curiously  wrought 
tcrra-cotta.  From  horn-shaped  vases  of  Japanese  porce- 
lain, or  of  Bohemian  glass,  ]>laced  in  the  centre  of  a 
table  or  at  the  corner  of  a  side-board,  spring  sheaves  of 
sii])erb  exotics;  and  all  this  floral  splendor  thrives  as  in 
a  hothouse.  In  truth,  every  Russian  apartment  is  a 
hotlKHise ;  in  the  street  you  are  at  the  pole  ;  within 
doors,  you  might  believe  yourself  in  the  tropics. 

It  would  seem  that  by  this  profusion  of  verdure,  the 
ej'e  seeks  to  console  itself  for  the  implacable  whiteness 
of  winter;  the  desire  to  see  something  which  is  not 
white  nmst  become  a  sort  of  nostalgia  in  this  country, 
where  snow  covers  the  ground  more  than  six  months 
out  of  the  year.  There  is  not  even  the  satisfaction  of 
looking  at  the  green-painted  vooh  ;  they  too  must  wear 
their  white  shirts  until  the  spring.  If  apartments  did 
not  transform  themselves  into  gardens,  one  would  feel 
as  if  gicen  had  disappeared  forever  fi-om  the  world. 

In  regard  to  furniture,  it  is  nuich  like  our  own,  only 
larger,  more  ample,  as  beseems  the  size  of  the  room ; 
but  one  thing  completely  Russian  is  this  little  boudoir 
of  delicate  and  costly  wood,  carved  in  open-work  like 
the    sticks  of   a  fan,  which  occu[)ics 


128  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

drawiug-room,  festooned  with,  the  rarest  climbing- 
plants, — a  kind  of  confessional  for  contidential  talk, — 
furnished  with  divans,  where  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
isolating  herself  from  the  crowd  of  visitors  while  3-et 
remaining  among  them,  may  receive  three  or  four 
guests  of  special  distinction.  Sometimes  it  is  of  tinted 
glass  covered  with  engravings  etched  by  fluoric  acid, 
and  monnted  in  panels  of  gilded  copper,  Nor  is  it 
rare  to  see,  standing  among  the  sofas,  the  hergeres,  the 
dos-d-dos,  a  huge  v/hite  bear,  suitably  stuffed  and  ar- 
ranged, offering  to  visitors  a  commodious  seat ;  and 
souaetimcs  little  black  cubs  serving  as  footstools  or 
ottomans.  And  so  we  are  recalled,  amid  all  the  ele- 
gance of  modern  life,  to  the  icebergs  of  the  Northern 
Ocean,  to  the  vast  steppes  covered  with  snow,  and  to 
the  deep  pine  forests,  the  true  llussia,  which,  at  St. 
Petersburg,  one  is  so  tempted  to  forget ! 

The  sleeping-rooms  do  not  present,  in  general,  the 
luxury  and  elegance  which  characterize  them  in  France. 
Behind  a  folding-screen,  or  in  one  of  those  carved 
boudoirs  of  which  I  spoke  just  now,  a  little,  low  bed  is 
hidden,  a  camp-bed  or  a  divaii  it  might  be  called  ;  the 
Russians  are  of  oriental  origin,  and,  even  in  the  higher 
classes,  care  little  for  luxuriously  appointed  bedrooms ; 
they  sleep  wherever  they  happen  to  be,  a  little  every- 
where, like  the  Turk,  often  wrapped  in  a  pelisse  on  one 
of  their  large  green  leather  sofas.  The  idea  of  making 
a  sort  of  sanctuary  of  one's  bedroom  never  occurs  to 
them  ;  their  ancient  customs  of  the  tent  seem  to  have 
followed  them  into  the  very  heart  of  civilized  life, — all 
whose  corruptions  and  all  whose  elegances,  however, 
they  perfectly  understand. 

Itich  hangings  adorn  the  walls ;  and  if  the  master  of 
the  house  prides  himself  on  being  an  amateur,  without 
fail,  from  the  red  India  damask,  from  the  brocatelle 
with  its  dull  gold  cnil)roidery,  stands  out  conspicuous, 
lighted  by  powerful  reflectors  and  set  in  the  most  ex- 
pensive of  frames,  a  llorace  Vcrnet,  a  Gudin,  a  Calame, 


DETAILS  OF  INTERIOUS.  129 

a  Kocklcock, — soiuotimcs  a  Le^'S,  a  Madon,  a  Tenkate; 
or,  if  he  will  prove  his  patriotism,  a  Brulov  or  an 
Aivasovsky;  these  are  the  painters  most  in  fashion; 
onr  modern  school  does  not  seem  to  have  rca(;hed  them 
as  yet.  I  have,  however,  met  two  or  three  Mcissoniers 
and  as  many  Troyons.  The  style  of  our  painters  does 
not  appear  sufficiently  finished  to  the  Hussians. 

This  interior  which  I  have  been  describing,  is  not 
that  of  a  palace,  bnt  of  a  house — not  hourgeoise, — that 
word  has  hardly  any  meaninjt^  in  Russia, — but  of  a  house 
coiimie  il  faut.  St.  Petersburp^  is  crowded  with  the 
elegant  residences  of  men  of  rank  and  with  palaces, 
of  which  I  hope  later  to  give  the  reader  some  descrip- 
tion. 

And  now  having  indicated  the  principal  decorations, 
it  is  time  to  speak  of  the  dinner.  Before  seating  them- 
selves, the  guests  approach  a  small  round  table  where 
is  set  out  caviare,  bits  of  salted  herring,  aucliovies, 
cheese,  olives,  slices  of  Bologna  sausage,  Hamburg 
smoked  beef,  and  other  relishes,  to  be  eaten  Avith  bis- 
cuits in  order  to  stimulate  the  a])petite.  This  lunch  is 
taken  standing,  and  accompanied  by  a  khid  of  absinthe, 
Madeii'a  wine,  eau-de-vie  de  Dantzic,  Cognac,  and 
cumin,  a  kind  of  anisette,  which  resembles  the  raki  of 
Constantinople  and.  the  Greek  islands.  Inconsiderate 
or  ditHdent  travellers,  who  cannot  resist  polite  urgency, 
allow  themselves  to  ])e  persuaded  to  taste  of  everything, 
not  dreamitig  that  this  is  but  the  prologue  to  the  per- 
formance, and  take  their  seats  at  the  dinner-table,  hav- 
ing already  quite  satistied  their  appetites. 

In  all  fashionable  houses  we  iiud  French  cookery; 
and  still  the  national  taste  is  shown  in  some  character- 
istic details.  For  exam]>le,  by  the  side  of  the  white 
bread  is  served  a  slice  of  the  blackest  rye  bread,  which 
the  Russian  guest  crumbles  with  evident  relish.  They 
seem  also  to  be  very  fond  of  certain  salted  cucumbers, 
called  agourcis,  and  which  I  found  at  first  far  from 
delicious.  During  dinner,  after  great  draughts  of 
G* 


130  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

Bordcanx  and  of  Yeuve  Cliquot  champagne,  wliicli  is 
found  nov>diei-e  bnt  in  Russia,  tliey  take  porter  and  ale, 
and  especially  Z;?/jr/s,  a  kind  of  local  beer  made  of  the 
crusts  of  black  bread  fermented,  which  one  mnst  learn 
to  lilcc,  and  v\diich,  to  strangers,  scared}"  seems  worthy 
of  the  magnificent  goblets  of  Bohemian  glass  or  of  chis- 
elled silver,  in  which  foams  its  brown  liquor.  And 
still,  after  a  residence  of  several  months,  you  come  at 
last  to  like  these  agourds,  this  kujas,  and  the  chtchi,  the 
Russian  national  soup. 

The  chtohi  is  a  sort  of  stew,  into  whose  composition 
enters  breast  of  mutton,  feimel,  onions,  carrots,  cabbage, 
pearl  barley,  and  prunes!  This  odd  compound  has  a 
most  original  flavor,  which  you  soon  find  agreeable,  espe- 
cially if  you  are  an  ex])erienced  traveller,  a  cosmopolite  of 
the  cuisine,  whose  gustatory  papillae  are  accustomed  to 
surprises  of  every  kind.  Another  favorite  is  i\\Q  j>oi<^U'^ 
aux  (pienefes  ;  it  is  a  clear  soup,  in  which,  as  it  boils,  is 
poured,  drop  by  drop,  a  kind  of  paste  made  of  eggs  and 
spices,  which,  surprised  Ijy  the  heat,  forms  into  round  or 
oval  pellets,  much  like  the  dropped  eggs  of  our  Parisian 
consommes.  With  the  chtchi  are  served  little  balls  of 
pastry. 

Ey^erybody  who  has  read  Monte  Cristo  will  remember 
that  repast  where  the  former  prisoner  of  the  Cliateau 
dTf,  realizing  the  marvels  of  fairy  tales  with  his  wand  of 
gold,  causes  "a  sturgeon  from  the  Yolga  to  be  served  to 
him,  a  gastronomic  wonder,  unknown  at  even  the  most 
luxurious  tables  outside  of  Russia.  And  in  truth,  the 
sturgeon  merits  his  reputation  ;  'tis  an  exquisite  fish, 
the  flesh  white  and  fine,  perhaps  a  trifle  too  rich  in 
taste,  midway  between  the  smelt  aud  the  lamprey.  lie 
may  attain  very  considerable  dimensions,  but  those  of 
medium  size  are  best.  Altliough  not  disdainful  of  such 
matters,  I  am  neither  a  Grinud  de  la  Raginere,  nor  a 
Cussy,  nor  a  Brillat-Savarin,  to  speak  with  suitable 
lyric  tire  upon  this  theme,  and  I  regret  it,  for  the  dish 
is  worthy  of  the  most  accomplished  e])icure ;  to  such  a 


DETAILS  OF  INTERIORS.  131 

man,  the  sturgeon  of  the  Volga  would  well  repay  tbe 
trouble  of  the  journey. 

Partridges,  whose  flesh,  perfumed  by  the  juniper 
berries  on  which  they  feed,  emits  a  fragrance  of  tur- 
pentine at  first  quite  surprising,  appear  frequently  on 
Ilussian  dinner-tables.  The  enormous  moor-fowl  also, 
and  the  bear's  ham  of  fable,  and  t\\e  filet  of  elk,  serve 
as  proof  that  it  is  no  bill  of  fare  of  Western  Europe 
wliich  is  laid  before  us. 

Every  people,  even  though  invaded  by  the  monotony 
of  civili;^ation,  retain  some  tastes  absolutely  peculiar, 
and  still  keep  a  few  national  dishes,  whose  flavor  it  is 
perhaps  im])ossible  for  a  foreigner  to  approve.  For  an 
exam[)lc  of  this  we  may  take  the  Russian  cold  soup,  in 
vrliicb  float  crystals  of  ice  amid  bits  of  fish  ;  its  mixture 
of  spices,  vinegar,  and  sugar  is  as  surprising  to  an  ex- 
otic palate  us  me  gasjMcho  of  Andalusia.  This  souj^,  by 
the  way,  is  served  only  in  summer.  It  is  very  cooling, 
they  say  ;  and  the  Russians  are  enthusiastic  aliout  it. 

As  vegetables  are  for  the  most  part  raised  under  glass 
in  this  country,  their  maturity  has  no  special  date 
marked  by  tlie  seasons,  and  they  ai'e  always,  or  never, 
"  early ;  "  every  month  in  the  year  you  may  eat  green 
peas  at  St.  Petersburg,  The  asparagus  knows  no  winter. 
It  is  large,  tender,  succulent,  and  perfectly  white  ;  the 
stalks  never  have  a  green  tip,  as  they  do  with  us,  and 
you  may  attack  them  at  either  end  indifferently.  In 
England  they  eat  salmon  cutlets  ;  in  Russia,  cutlets  of 
chicken.  This  dish  has  been  in  fashion  since  the  Em- 
peror jS^icholas  tasted  it  at  a  little  tavern  near  Torjek, 
and  found  it  good.  The  recipe  had  been  given  to  the 
hostess  by  an  unlucky  Frenchman  who  could  in  no 
other  way  pay  his  scot ;  and  it  made  her  fortune. 

In  speaking  of  the  Russian  cuisine  I  have  referi*ed 
only  to  dishes  that  arc  peculiar  and  unlike  our  own  ;  in 
general,  however,  in  all  great  houses,  it  is  purely  French, 
and  performed  by  Frenchmen.  Without  doubt,  France 
supplies  the  world  with  cooks. 


132  ^  WINTER  IN  nUSSni 

The  great  endeavoi'  at  St.  Petersburg  is  to  have  fresh 
oj^sters;  they  come  from  so  great  a  distance,  tliat  in 
Slimmer  the  heat  often  spoils  them,  and  in  winter  they 
arc  in  danger  of  being  frozen  ;  they  have  been  sold  for 
a  ruble  apiece.  Oysters  so  expensive  are  rarely  good. 
They  tell  of  a  mujik  who  had  become  very  rich,  who, 
in  return  for  a  barrel  of  oysters  furnished  to  his  master 
at  the  season  of  their  greatest  scarcity,  received  liis  lib- 
erty, for  which  he  had  before  vainly  offered  enormous 
Slims — fifty  or  a  hundred  thousand  rubles,  it  is  said.  I 
will  not  guarantee  the  tnitli  of  this  story,  but  it  proves 
at  least,  even  though  a  iiction,  that  at  certain  times  of 
the  year  oysters  are  extremely  scarce  at  St.  Peters- 
burg. 

On  the  same  principle,  there  must  always  be  a  basket 
of  fruit  at  dessert ;  oranges,  pine-apples,  grapes,  apples, 
and  pears  are  arranged  in  elegant  pyramids ;  grapes 
come  from  Portugal  usually,  bat  sometimes  they  have 
rounded  their  pale  amber  globes  in  the  rays  of  a  calori- 
fhre  in  the  cellar  of  the  house,  half  buried  under  the 
snow.  I  have  eaten  strawberries  too,  in  St.  Pctersbm-g, 
in  January,  which  had  vainly  striven  to  grow  red  amid 
their  green  leaves,  in  a  flower-pot.  Fruits  are  a  passion 
witli  people  of  the  North ;  they  import  them  at  great 
expense,  or  they  extort  at  least  a  semblance  of  them — 
for  flavor  and  fragrance  are  wanting — from  their  own 
reluctant  climate.  Tlie  stove,  however  well  heated,  is 
but  a  poor  substitute  for  sunshine. 

I  trust  that  the  reader  is  very  ready  to  pardon  these 
gastronomic  details ;  it  may  be  worthwhile  to  know  how 
a  people  is  fed.  "  Tell  me  what  you  eat,  and  I  will  tell 
you  what  you  are;"  thus  modified,  the  proverb  is  not 
the  less  true.  Altliough  they  imitate  the  French  cuidae, 
the  Russian  people  preserve  a  relish  for  tlieir  national 
dislies,  and  these  are  the  ones  which  at  heart  they  pre- 
fer. It  is  the  same  with  their  character :  although  they 
conform  to  the  highest  refinements  of  western  civiliza- 
tion, they  still  preserve  certain  primitive  instincts,  and  it 


DETAILS  OF  INTERIORS.  I33 

would  not  l)e  so  very  hard  for  any  of  them — even  the 
most  elegant — to  go  back  and  live  upon  the  steppes. 

At  table  a  servant  in  black  coat,  with  white  neck-tie 
andgloves,  irreproaclial>lein  costume  as  an  English  diplo- 
mate,  sta.ids  gravely  behind  your  chair,  ready  to  attend 
to  your  least  wish.  You  might  fancy  yourself  in  Paris  ; 
but  if  you  chance  to  look  closely  at  this  man,  you  will 
see  that  the  color  of  his  skin  is  yellow,  his  small  black 
eyes  are  narrow  and  drawn  np  at  the  outer  angles,  his 
nose  is  fiat,  liis  cheek-bones  are  prominent,  his  lips 
thick;  your  host,  whose  ej'e  has  followed  yours,  remarks 
carelessly,  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world,  that  he  is  a  Mongol  Tartar  from  the  conlines  of 
CJiiiia. 

This  Tartar,  a  IMahometan,  or  perhaps  an  idolater, 
fulfils  his  duty  with  the  regularity  of  an  automaton, 
and  not  the  most  critical  major-domo  could  find  aught 
wherein  to  censure  him.  lie  has  the  appearance  of  a 
genuine  ICuropcan  servant ;  but  ho  would  please  me 
better  if  he  wore  the  costume  of  his  tribe,  the  tunic  fas- 
tened at  the  waist  with  a  belt  of  metal,  and  the  lambskin 
cap  ;  it  would  be  more  picturesque  ;  but  it  would  be  less 
European,  and  the  Russian  does  not  like  to  have  an 
Asiatic  air. 

The  table-service  as  a  whole, — porcelain,  crystal,  silver, 
epergne, — leaves  nothing  to  be  desired,  but  has  nothing 
about  it  which  is  peculiar,  save  only  charming  little 
spoons  of  platina,  ornamented  with  Niello-work  of  gold, 
wherewith  one  tastes  the-dainties  of  the  dessert,  the  tea 
and  cofiee.  Dishes  of  fruit  alternate  with  baskets  of 
llowers,  and  the  more  delicate  pastry  is  often  surrounded 
by  a  wreath  made  of  little  bouquets  of  violets,  which  the 
hostess  gracefully  distributes  among  her  guests. 

As  to  the  conversation,  it  is  carried  on  in  French,  es- 
pecially when  sti'angers  are  at  the  table.  All  llussians 
of  any  distinction  speak  our  language  very  fiueJitly,  with 
all  the  whims  of  the  iiour,  the  phrases  at  the  moment  in 
fashion,  as  if  they  had  learned  it  on  the  Boulevard  des 


134  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

Italiens.  They  even  iiudei'stand  the  French  of  Dnvert 
and  Lausanne,  so  peculiar  and  so  intensely  Parisian,  that 
many  provincials  find  it  difticult.  The  Rnssians  speak 
Frencli  without  any  foreign  accent,  yet  may  be  recog- 
nized by  a  slight  singing  tone,  not  displeasing,  and  which 
you  come  at  last  to  imitate  yourself ;  also  they  fall  into 
certain  ways  of  expressing  themselves,  national  perhaps, 
common  to  all  persons  who  speak  familiarly  a  lano;uage 
not  their  own.  Thus  they  employ  the  woi-d  '•'■ahsolu- 
menV  oddly  ;  you  say,  for  example,  "  Is  snch  a  person 
dead  ? "  and  •  they  will  reply,  "  Ahsolument  ;  "  as  we 
should  say  oui^  or  tlie  Italian,  si.  The  words  done  and 
dejd  o(;cur  often,  placed  where  they  do  not  belong  in  the 
sentence,  with  an  interrogative  significance :  "  Avez 
vous  done  dejd  vu  St.  Petershourg,  on  Mine.  Bosio  ?  " 

The  manners  of  the  Kussians  are  polite,  caressing  and 
extremely  polished.  One  is  surprised  to  find  that  they 
are  minutely  infoi'raed  in  regard  to  our  literature  ;  they 
read  much,  and  many  a  French  anthor  is  better  known 
at  St.  Petersburg  than  in  Paris.  The  gossip  of  the 
green-room,  the  ehronique  scandaleuse  of  the  demi- 
monde, goes  as  far  as  the  banks  of  the  Neva,  and  I  have 
heard  tliere  many  a  piquant  detail,  entirely  new  to  me, 
concerning  Parisian  affairs. 

Russian  women  have  also  much  mental  cultivation ; 
with  the  facility  characterizing  the  Slavic  race,  they 
read  and  understand  many  languages.  They  are  famil- 
iar with  Byron,  with  Goethe  and  lleine  in  the  original, 
and  when  a  writer  is  introduce'd  to  them,  they  are  able 
by  some  adroit  quotation  to  prove  that  they  have  read 
and  remembered  his  works.  x\sto  their  toilette,  it  is  of 
the  last  degree  of  elegance,  the  very  su])erlative  of  fash- 
ion. Diamonds  sparkle  npon  bare  and  lovely  shoulders, 
and  only  bracelets  from  Circassia  and  the  Caucasus  re- 
mind ns  by  their  peculiar  oriental  construction  that  we 
are  in  Hussia. 

After  dimier  we  disperse  through  the  drawing-rooms. 
On  the  tables  lie  albums,  books  of  beauty,  keepsakes, 


DETAILS  OF  INTEEI0R8.  135 

sketches  of  scenery,  which  may  be  useful  to  the  em- 
barrassed or  diffident  visitor.  Stereoscopes  offer  the 
entertainment  of  tlieir  moving  pictures ;  sometimes  a 
woman  rises,  yielding  to  solicitation,  and,  seating  herself 
at  the  piano,  sings  to  her  own  accompaniment  some 
Russian  national  air,  or  some  gypsy  song  in  which  the 
meJancholy  of  the  North  mingles  with  Southern  ardor, 
— a  strange  melody,  resembling  a  cachuca  danced  by 
moonlight  upon  the  snow. 


XI. 

A   "RATT.   AT   TBE   WINTER   PALACE. 

IPEOPOSE  to  describe  ^fete  'wliicli  I  attend ed  with- 
out being  tliere, — from  which,  in  person,  I  was  absent, 
while  my  eye  was  an  invited  guest, — a  ball  at  court !  In- 
visible myself,  I  saw  everything,  and  yet  I  did  not  wear 
the  ring  of  Gyges  on  my  hnger,  or  on  my  head  the  ko- 
bold's  green  felt  hat,  or  any  talisman  whatever. 

In  the  Square  of  Alexander — covered  with  its  carpet 
of  snow,  and  in  a  temperature  cold  enough  to  stiffen 
Parisian  coachmen  and  horses,  bnt  which,  to  these  Rus- 
sians, did  not  seem  severe  enough  to  have  the  fires 
lighted  under  the  Chinese-roofed  kiosks  of  cast-iron,  ad- 
joining the  Winter  Palace — many  carriages  were  stand- 
ing. The  trees  of  the  Admiralty,  diamonded  with  frost, 
had  the  appearance  of  great  white  plumes  fixed  in  the 
ground,  and  the  red  granite  of  the  triumphal  C(jlunm 
was  coated  with  ice  ;  the  moon,  rising  pure  and  clear, 
Hooded  with  its  ])ale  radiance  all  this  whiteness  of  the 
night,  gave  a  blue  tint  to  the  shadows  and  made  the  mo- 
tionless equi]>ages — whose  ice-covered  lanterns  like  ])o- 
lar  glo^v^-worms  dotted  with  points  of  yellow  light  the 
innnense  expanse — suggest  i\iQ,  figures  of  a  phantas- 
magoria. In  the  background,  the  colossal  Winter  Prd- 
ace'  flamed  through  all  its  windows,  like  a  mountain 
pierced  with  holes  and  lighted  by  interior  ignition.^ 

Perfect  silence  reigned  in  tlie  square  ;  the  severity  of 
tlie  cold  kept  away  the  curious  crowd  that  in  Paris  is 
always  sure  to  flock  to  witness  such  an  entertainment, 
though  seen  only  at  a  distance  and  from  without ;  and 
evenhad  there  been  a  crowd,  the  approaches  to  the  ])al- 
ace  are  of  such  enormous  extent  that  it  would  have  been 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE.  137 

scattered  and  lost  in  tlic  immense  space  which  iiot]iiii<^ 
but  an  army  could  till. 

A  sled;:>-e  traversed  diagonally  the  Avide  white  plain 
across  wliich  stretclied  the  long  shadow  of  the  colunmof 
Alexander,  and  disappeared  in  the  sombre  street  which 
separates  the  Winter  Palace  from  the  Hermitage,  a 
street  whose  aerial  bridge  gives  it  a  certain  resemblance 
to  the  Canal  di  Paglia,  in  Venice. 

A  few  minutes  later  an  Eye,  which  it  is  not  necessary 
to  suppose  had  any  special  belongings,  hovered  along  a 
cornice  just  under  the  roof  of  a  gallcj-y  in  the  palace. 
Lines  of  wax- candles  fixed  in  the  monklingof  the  entab- 
lature sheltered  this  Eye  behind  a  hedge  of  flame,  and 
no  one  from  below  could  have  perceived  its  feeble  ray. 
Light  concealed  it  more  effectually  than  shadow  could 
have  done  ;  it  disa}>i)eared  in  the  effulgence. 

The  gallery,  broud  and  long,  extended  beneath,  Avith 
its  polished  columns,  its  lloor  rellecting  the  lights  and 
tlie  gilding,  and  its  pictures — whose  subjects,  seen 
from  this  point,  conld  not  be  discerned.  Already,  bril- 
liant uniforms  were  movhig  about  below,  and  the  long 
trahis  of  court  dresses  swept  hither  and  thither.  Slowly 
the  crowd  increased  ;  a  many  colored,  sparkling  river,  it 
filled  its  bed,  and  the  broad  gallery  became  too  narrow 
for  it. 

The  attention  of  this  crowd  was  directed  towards  the 
entrance  by  which  the  Imperial  family  should  appear. 
The  doors  opened  ;  the  guests  fell  back  on  either  side, 
and  the  Emperor,  the  Empress,  and  the  Grand-Dukes 
passed  down  the  gallery,  addressing  occasionally  with 
graceful  and  high-bred  manner  some  remark  to  i)ersons 
of  distinction  near  Avhom  they  passed.  Then  the  lm|)e- 
rial  gronp  disappeared  through  the  opposite  doors,  fol- 
lowed at  a  respectful  distance  by  the  high  officers  of 
state,  the  diplomatic  coi-ps,  generals,  and  persons  of 
i-aidv. 

Scarcely  had  the  ])rocession  entered  the  ball-room, 
when  the  Eye  was  again  in  position,  and  this  time  fur 


13S  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

nislicd  with  a  good  opera-glass.  It  was  like  a  furnace 
of  light  and  heat,  so  intense  as  to  suggest  a  coiiflagration. 
Lines  of  iii'e  ran  along  the  cornices  between  the  win- 
dows ;  thousand-branched  ^f>rc//e/'(?.stlamedlike  the  burn- 
ing bush  ;  chandeliers  by  hundreds  hung  from  the  ceil- 
ing, blazing  constellations  in.  the  midst  of  a  phosphores- 
cent mist;  and  the  light  from  all  these  various  sources, 
meeting  and  crossing,  composed  the  most  dazzling  illu- 
mination d  gio'rno^  whoso  sun  ever  shone  upon  any  fete. 

The  first  impression — especially  from  a  point  so  high, 
leaning  over  tin's  gulf  of  light— is  a  sort  of  vertigo  ;  for 
the  moment,  in  the  dazzlingscene,  it  is  impossible  to  dis- 
tinguish anything  whatevei'.  A  kind  of  incessant  scin- 
tiHation  prevents  you  from  seizing  any  outlines ;  but  soou 
the  eye  becomes  accustomed  to  the  glare,  and  can  drive 
away  these  black  butteiflies  that  dance  before  it,  as 
when  one  has  been  looking  at  the  sun;  it  takes  in,  from 
one  extremity  to  the  other,  this  hall  of  gigantic  dimen- 
sions, all  white  marble  and  stucco,  whose  polished  walls 
shine  like  the  jasper  and  the  porphj-ry  in  Martyn's  en- 
gravings of  Babylonian  architecture,  reflecting  with 
vague  outlines  the  lights  and  objects  in  the  hall. 

The  kaleidoscope,  whose  colored  fragments  ir.cessautly 
fall  together  and  rearrange  themselves,  f(^rming  new  de- 
signs ;  the  chromatrope.  with  its  dilations  and  contrac- 
tions, where  a  bit  of  cloth  becomes  a  flower,  then  changes 
its  petals  into  the  points  of  a  ci'own,  and  ends  as  a  whirl- 
ing sun,  passing  from  ruby  to  emerald,  from  topaz  to 
amethyst,  around  a  diamond  centre,  can  only,  millions 
of  times  enlarged,  give  an  idea  of  this  parterre  in  motion, 
where  gold  and  gems  and  flowers  renew  with  perpetual 
agitation  its  sparkling  arabesques. 

As  the  im])erial  family  enter,  this  moving  splendor  be- 
comes fixed,  and,  the  scintillation  for  a  moment  abating, 
it  is  possible  to  distinguish  faces  and  persons. 

In  liussia,  court  balls  are  opened  with  what  is  called 
a  polonaise  ;  it  is  not  a  dance,  but  a  sort  of  moving  in 
iile,  a  procession,  a  Qiiarche  aux,  ila/inbeaux,  which  has  a 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE.  139 

great  deal  of  (iliaractcr.  The  guests  fall  back  from  the 
centre  of  the  liall,  leaving  a  sort  of  avenue  of  which  they 
form  the  animated  hedge.  When  everybody  is  in  his 
])lace  the  orchestra  l)lays  an  air  with  slow  and  stately 
cadence,  and  the  promenade  begins ;  it  is  led  by  the 
Emperor,  who  gives  his  hand  to  some  princess  or  to  some 
lady  whom  he  desires  to  honor. 

The  Emperor  Alexander  wore,  on  the  evening  of  which 
I  s})eak,  an  elegant  military  di'css,  which  slunved  to  great 
advantage  his  tall  lignre  and  his  free  and  graceful  bear- 
ing. It  was  a  kind  of  long  military  jacket,  white,  with 
gold  hrandehourgs,  trimmed  at  the  neck  and  wrists  and 
around  the  edge  with  Siberian  blue  fox,  and  starred 
all  across  the  breast  with  decorations.  Light-blue  trou- 
sers, closely  fitting,  ended  at  the  narrow  boots.  The  hair 
of  the  Emperor  was  cut  very  short,  and  shoAved  his 
smooth,  full,  well-rounded  forehead.  His  features,  with 
their  perfect  reguhirity,  seem  modelled  for  the  gold  or 
bronze  of  the  medal ;  the  blue  of  his  eyes  is  rendered 
particularly  noticeable  by  the  brown  tints  of  the  face, 
less  white  "than  the  forehead,  by  reason  of  much  exposure 
in  tlie  open  air.  The  contours  of  the  mouth  are  as  clear 
cut  as  in  the  Greek  sculpture  ;  the  expression  of  the  face 
is  one  of  majesty  and  gentleness,  at  times  lighted  by  a 
gracious  smile. 

Following  the  Imperial  family,  come  the  high  officers 
of  tiie  arniy  and  of  the  palace,  each  giving  his  hand  to 
a  lady.  It  is  a  crowd  of  uniforms  embroidered  with 
gold,' epaulettes  starred  with  diamonds,  rows  of  dect)ra- 
tions,  whose  enamel  and  precious  stones  form  centres  of 
flashing  light.  Some,  the  highest  in  rank  and  faAor, 
wear  about  the  neck  an  order  more  as  a  token  of  friend- 
ship than  of  honor,  if  possible — the  portrait  of  the  Em- 
peror set  with  brilliants ;  but  they  arc  rare,  these  last, 
— one  could  count  them. 

The  ])ro(!ession  still  moves,  and  is  recruited  as  it  goes  ; 
a  gentleman  comes  out  from  the  living  hedge  and  ex- 
tends his  hand  to  a  lady  standing  opposite,  and  the  new 


140  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

couple  join  the  others'  taking  their  place  in  the  ranks,  wlio 
move  on  with  measui-ed  step,  slackening  the  pace  or  in- 
creasing it,  according  to  the  movement  of  the  leader  ; 
it  cannot  be  quite  an  easy  thing  to  walk  thus,  holding 
your  partner  by  the  lingcr-tips  under  fire  of  a  thousand 
critical  eyes  ;  the  slightest  awkwardness  of  bearing,  the 
least  enibavi-assment  of  the  foot,  the  most  trifling  fault  in 
keeping  time,  is  noticed.  Military  drill  has  made  many 
of  the  men  safe  ;  but  what  a  difficulty  for  the  women  ! 
M(-)st  of  them  acquit  themselves  admirably,  and  of  one 
it  can  1)6  said  :  Et  vera  incessu  jpatidt  dea  !  Lightly 
they  walked,  under  their  feathers  and  flowers  and  dia- 
monds, modestly  casting  down  their  eyes,  or  letting  them 
waiulor  with  an  air  of  perfect  innocence,  manosuvring 
with  a  slight  l)end  of  tlieflgure  or  a  little  backward  mo- 
tion of  tlie  foot,  their  waves  of  silk  and  lace,  refreshing 
themselves  with  a  flutter  of  their  fans,  and  as  much  at 
their  ease  as  if  they  were  wandering  among  the  solitary 
avenues  of  a  park  ;  to  walk  in  a  noble,  graceful,  and 
simple  manner,  when  peojfle  are  looking  at  you,  is  an  art  i 
which  more  than  one  great  actress  has  never  been  able 
to  acquire ! 

What  gives  an  air  of  originality  to  the  Russian  court, 
is,  that  now  and  then  some  wasp-waisted,  broad-chested 
young  Circassian  prince,  with  his  showy,  elegant  oriental 
dress,  joins  the  procession,  or  some  captain  of  the  Les- 
ghien  guard,  or  Mongol  officer,  whose  soldiers  yet  are 
armed'with  bow  and  quiver  and  buckler.  Under  the 
white  glove  of  civilized  life  hides — that  it  may  take  the 
hand  of  some  princess  or  countess — the  small  Asiatic 
liaud,  accustomed  to  grasp  the  straight  handle  of  the 
kind  jal  in  its  brown,  sinewy  fingers.  No  one  is  sui-prised. 
In  fact,  what  more  natural  than  that  some  Tartar  prince 
— Maliomotau,  perchance, — should  walk  the  polonaise 
with  a  lady  of  rank  in  St.  Petersbm-g,  of  the  orthodox 
G-reek  confession  !  Are  they  not  both  equally  subjects 
of  his  majesty,  the  Emj)eror  of  All  the  Russias  \ 

The  uniforms  and  the  court  dress  of  the  men  are  so 


A  BALL  AT  TUB  WINTER  PALAOE.  141 

splendid,  so  ricli,  so  varied,  so  loaded  witli  gold,  with 
embroidery  and  decorations,  that  the  women  witli  their 
modern  elegance,  and  the  airy  grace  of  the  fashions  of 
the  ])resent  day,  find  it  dillicnlt  to  hold  their  own  against 
this  heavy  splendor ;  more  rich  they  cannot  be;  instead, 
tliey  are  more  beautit'nl  ;  their  bare  white  arms  and 
shonlders  far  out- value  tlio  gold  embroidery.  To  match 
the  mascnline  attii-e,  the  Russian  women  would  need, 
like  the  Byzantine  madonnas,  robes  of  stamped  gold 
and  silver,  stomachers  of  precious  stones,  halos  striated 
with  diamonds  ;  but  how  to  dance,  enclosed  in  a  shrine 
of  jeweller's  work ! 

Do  not,  however,  imagine  a  simplicity  too  primitive! 
These  siui]>lo  dresses  are  of  point  d/  Amjleterre^  and 
the  two  or  three  tunics  worn  outside  are  worth  more  than 
a  daliuatic  of  gold  or  silver  ;  the  bouquets  on  the  lace 
skirt  are  fastened  with  clusters  of  diamonds  ;  this  velvet 
ribbon  has  for  its  buckle  a  jewel  which  might  have  been 
taken  from  the  crown  of  a  czar.  What  more  simple 
than  a  white  robe, — silk,  tulle,  or  vioire, — and  a  few 
pearls  in  the  hair, — a  net-work,  or  two  or  three  strings 
twisted  among  the  braids  'i  But  the  pearls  are  worth  a 
hundred  thousand  rubles ;  never  fisher  brought  up 
]-ounder  or  of  ])urer  color  from  the  depths  of  ocean! 
Besides,  this  simplicity  pays  honuige  to  the  Empress, 
who  prefers  elegance  to  ostentation  ;  i)ut  you  may  be 
sure  Mammon  loses  nothing  by  it.  Only,  at  the  first 
glance,  as  they  pass  in  rapid  march,  you  would  think 
the  Russian  women  make  less  display  than  the  men  ;  it 
is  a  mistake.  Like  their  sex  everywhere,  they  know 
how  to  render  gauze  more  costly  than  gold. 

When  the  polonaise  has  made  tlie  circuit  of  the  hall 
and  gallery  adjoining,  the  ball  c(^)mmences.  There  is 
nothing  characteristic  about  the  dances  ;  they  are  quad- 
rilles, the  waltz,  the  redowa, — the  same  as  in  Paris,  in 
London,  in  Madrid,  in  Vienna, — in  fashionable  society 
everywhere  ;  I  must  except  the  mazourka,  which  is 
danced  at  St.  Petersburg  with  an  elegance  and  a  perfec- 


14:2  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

tion  elsewhere  unknown.  Local  peculiarities  invariably 
tend  to  disappear,  and  iirst  of  all  tlic}^  vanish  from  the 
circles  of  hi<i,li  society.  To  reco\-er  them,  we  must  go 
far  away  from  the  centres  of  civilization,  and  seek  them 
in  the  depths  of  humble  life. 

As  a  whole,  tlie  scene  was  enchanting  :  the  figures  of 
the  dance  formed  symmetrical  centres  in  the  midst  of 
the  splendid  crowd  which  gave  way  to  leave  them  room ; 
the  whirl  of  the  waltz  puffed  out  the  skirts  like  the  robes 
of  dancing  dervishes,  and  in  the  rapid  evolution,  the 
diamond  clusters,  the  gold  and  silver  laminae,  length- 
ened into  serpentine  flashes  like  those  of  lightning;  and 
the  small  gloved  hand  of  the  lady,  resting  on  the  epau- 
lette of  her  partner,  was  like  a  white  camellia  in  a  vase 
of  massive  gold. 

Among  the  groups,  the  iirst  secretary  of  the  Austrian 
embassy  was  very  conspicuous,  with  his  magnificent 
Hungarian  costume,  and  the  Greek  ambassador,  also  in 
liis  national  dress. 

After  an  hour  or  tv/o  of  lofty  contemplation,  the  Eye, 
through  mysterious  and  D;pdalian  corridors,  where  the 
far-oft  sounds  of  the  orchestra  and  the  crowded  ball- 
room died  away  in  vague  murmurs,  made  its  way  to 
another  hall.  Comparative  obscurity  reigned  in  this 
enormous  ai:)artme!it ;  here  supper  would  be  served. 
Many  a  cathedi-al  is  not  so  vast.  Below,  in  the  dim 
light,  the  wliite  outlines  of  the  tables  could  be  discerned  ; 
at  the  coi'uers  great  masses  of  silver  glittered  faintly, 
liere  and  there  flashing  back  some  wandering  ray  of 
liglit  which  came,  one  knew  not  whence ;  these  were 
the  l)uffets.  Steps  led  up  to  a  velvet-covered  estrade, 
wliere  was  arranged  a  semi-circular  table.  With  silent 
activity,  servants  in  gala  li^■ery  went  and  came,  maj;)r- 
domos  and  olHcers  of  the  kitchen,  giving  tlie  last  touch- 
es to  the  ])reinirations,  A  few  scattered  lights  wandered 
about  upon  this  sombre  background,  like  the  sparks  in 
burnt  paper. 

However,  countless  wax-candles  loaded  the  candela- 


A  BALL  AT  THE  WINTER  PALACE.  I43 

bra,  and  followed  the  border  of  the  friezes  and  the  ont- 
lines  of  every  arch.  Tlioy  stood  out  white,  like  the 
pistils  of  liowers,  but  not  the  lea:?t  luminous  star 
trembled  at  any  point  of  them.  Congealed  stalactites 
they  seemed ;  and  already  could  be  heard,  like  tumul- 
tuous, advancing  waves,  the  confused  sound  of  the  ap- 
proaching multitude.  The  Emperor  appeared  at  the 
threshold  of  the  door  ;  it  was  like  a^fiai  Iu.a  !  A  subtle 
flame  ran  from  point  to  point,  rapid  as  a  Hash  ;  in  an 
instant  all  was  brilliant  as  the  day  ;  torrents  of  light  iMid- 
denly  filled  the  immense  hall  as  if  by  magic.  This 
abrupt  transition  from  a  kind  of  twilight  to  the  most 
dazzling  illumination,  is  truly  like  a  scene  of  enchant- 
ment. In  our  age  of  prose,  every  wonder  must  be  ex- 
plained ;  threads  of  gun-cotton  connect  all  the  wicks  of 
the  candles,  which  ai-e,  besides,  soaked  in  some  inflam- 
mable liqu.id,  and  lire, applied  in  seven  or  eight  ])laces, 
is  propagated  instantly.  The  great  chandeliers  in  St. 
Isaac's  are  lighted  in  this  way,  a  thread  of  gun-cotton 
hanging  down  from  each  like  a  cobweb  above  the  heads 
of  the  faithful.  With  a  row  of  connected  gas-burners 
turned  on  suddenly,  we  can  produce  a  similar  effect; 
but  gas  is  not  employed  in  the  Winter  Palace;  only 
genuine  wax-candles  burn  there.  Nowhere  save  in 
Itussia  docs  the  bee  still  contribute  the  illumination. 

The  Empress  seated  herself,  with  several  pei-sons  of 
the  highest  rank,  at  the  semi-circular  table,  upon  the 
raised  platform.  Behind  her  gilded  arm-chair  a  great 
sheaf  of  white  and  red  camellias  spread,  a  giant  bou- 
quet, against  the  wall.  Twelve  negroes  of  groat  height, 
selected  from  the  iinest  specimens  of  the  African  race, 
clad  as  Mamelukes, — with  white,  twisted  turhan,  green 
vest  with  gold  corners,  wide  red  trousers  girt  with  a 
cashmere  scarf,  the  whole  braided  and  embi-oidered  on 
the  seams, — went  and  came  on  the  steps  of  the  estrade, 
handing  the  plates  to  the  servants,  or  receiving  them, 
with  tluit  air  of  grace  and  dignity,  even  in  a  servile  oc- 
cupation, peculiar  to  orientals.     These   orientals,  hav- 


144    '  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

iiig  forgotten  Desdemona,  f nlfilled  tlieir  duty  with  great 
majesty,  and  gave  to  this  Eurojjcan  entertainment  an 
eastern  stamp  of  the  very  highest  taste. 

Without  any  designation  of  places,  th<5  guests  seated 
themselves  at  pleasure,  at  the  tables  destined  for  them, 

Rich  centre  ornaments  of  silver  and  gilt,  represent- 
ing groups  of  figures  or  flowers,  mythological  or  fan- 
tastic devices,  adorned  the  tables  ;  candelabra  alternated 
with  pyramids  of  fruit  and  ornamental  structures  of 
sugar.  Seen  from  above,  the  sparkling  symmetry  of 
crystal,  porcelain,  silver,  and  boucpiets,  could  be  better 
appreciated  than  by  those  nearer,  A  double  cordon  of 
vv'hite  shoulders,  set  in  lace  and  scintillating  with 
diamonds,  surrounding  the  tables,  betrayed  their  loveli- 
ness to  the  invisible  Eye — whose  gaze  also  followed  the 
parting  of  the  brown  or  the  blond  locks,  amid  the 
flowers,  the  leaves,  the  plumes,  and  the  precious  stones. 

The  Emperor  went  everywhere,  addressing  a  few 
words  to  this  person  or  that ;  sometimes  seating  himself 
for  a  moment  and  raising  to  his  lips  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne ;  then  going  farther  to  repeat  the  same  courtesy 
elsewhere.  These  brief  visits  are  considered  a  great 
honc)r. 

After  supper,  the  dancing  was  resumed  ;  but  it  had 
now  gr.own  late.  It  was  time  to  go  ;  the  ball  could  but 
repeat  itself,  and  to  one  only  an  eye-witness  it  no  longer 
offei-ed  the  same  interest.  The  sledge  which  earlier  in 
the  evening  has  driven  across  the  square  and  liad 
stopped  at  a  little  door  in  the  narrow  street  which 
separates  the  Winter  Palace  from  the  Hermitage, 
emerged  again,  taking  the  direction  of  St.  Isaac's, 
It  boi-e  a  fur  pelisse,  and  a  fur  cap,  which  concealed 
the  w^earer's  face ;  and,  as  if  the  sky  were  dis]).)sed  to 
I'ival  the  terrestrial  splendors,  an  aurora  borealis  was 
letting  off  its  fire  of  polar  pyrotechnics,  its  fusees  of 
gold,  "of  silver,  of  crimson,  and  of  pearly  tints,  mak- 
ing the  stars  fade  away  before  its  phosphorescent  radi- 
ance. 


XII. 

THE   THEATRES. 

THE  theatres  of  St.  Petersburg  have  a  stately  and 
dassic  appearance.  In  general,  their  architecture 
suggests  the  Odeon  in  Paris  or  the  theatre  at  Bor- 
deaux. Standing  isolated  in  the  centre  of  extensive 
squares,  they  offer  great  facilities  of  approach  and 
departure.  F(U-  my  own  part,  I  should  prefer  a  style 
of  more  originality,  .uid  it  seems  to  me  it  \V(Mild  have 
been  possible  to  create  one  with  a  character  suited  to 
the  country,  from  which  many  new  effects  might  have 
been  obtained.  This  fault  is  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  Russia.  A  mistaken  admiration  of  anti(iuity  has 
filled  all  the  capitals  of  Europe  with  Parthenons  and 
7iiaisons  carrees,  co})ied  more  or  less  exactly  M'ith  lavish 
use  of  building-stone,  of  brick,  or  of  plaster.  Only, 
nowhere  do  thc^e  poor  Greek  orders  seem  more  out  of 
place  and  more  unhappy  than  at  St.  Petersburg:  ac- 
customed to  the  blue  sky  and  the  sunshine,  they  sliivcr 
under  the  snow  which  covers  their  flat  roofs  through 
the  long  winter.  It  is  true  these  roofs  arc  carefully 
swept  after  every  new  fall  of  snow,  and  this  is  the  best 
criticism  upon  the  inappropriateness  of  the  style. 
Icicles  among  the  acanthus  leaves  of  a  Corinthian 
capital!  Wllat  do  you  say  t(j  that?  A  reaction  from 
the  classic  style  is  wow  at  work  in  favcn-  of  the  Mus- 
covite-r>y/antine  architecture,  wliich  1  trust  may  prove 
sviccessfnl.  Each  country,  when  it  has  not  suffered 
violence  in  the  name  of  a  j)retcndod  good  taste,  pro- 
duces its  public  buildings  as  it  docs  its  men,  itsanimals, 
and  its  plants,  in  accordance  with  the  necessities  of  its 
7 


146  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

climate,  its  religion,  and  its  orio;in ;  what  is  needed 
in  Kussia  is  the  Greek  of  Byzantium,  not  the  Greek  of 
Athens. 

This  reservation  being  made,  all  the  rest  is  praise. 
The  grand  theatre,  or  Italian  Opera  House,  is  superb, 
and  of  colossal  size,  rivalling .  La  Scala  or  San  Carlo : 
carriages  draw  up  and  drive  away  in  the  immense 
square  without  delay  or  disorder.  Two  or  three  suc- 
cessive vestibules  with  glazed  doors,  keep  the  biting 
cold  from  rushing  into  the  main  audience-room,  and 
moderate  a  transition  from  the  neighborhood  of  zero 
to  something  above  80^.  Retired  soldiers  in  uniform 
receive  you  as  you  enter,  and  remove  your  pelisse,  furs, 
and  overshoes.  These  are  always  restored  to  you 
without  mistake,  the  memory  for  pelisses  seeming  to 
be,  even  in  crowds  like  this,  still  an  unfailing  trait  of 
the  Russian.  As  in  her  Majesty's  theatre  in  London,  so 
in  here  in  the  Italian  Opera,  no  gentleman  is  admitted, 
without  the  inevitable  black  coat,  white  neck-tie,  and 
straw-colored  or  light  gloves,  unless  he  wear  uniform 
of  some  kind,  this  being  most  frequently  the  case; 
the  women  are  in  full  evening  dress,  decollete,  and  with 
bai'e  arms.  This  etiquette — of  which  I  cordially  ap- 
prove— adds  greatly  to  the  brilliancy  of  the  scene. 

The  parquette  in  the  grand  theatre  is  divided  in  the 
middle  by  a  wide  passage-way.  A  semi-circular  cor- 
ridor surrounds  it,  bordered  on  the  outer  side  by  a  row 
of  boxes,  so  that,  during  the  interludes,  it  is  easy  to  go 
and  talk  with  any  of  one's  acquaintance  who  may 
occupy  these  boxes.  This  arrangement,  which  is  so 
convenient,  and  is  in  use  in  all  the  principal  theatres  of 
Europe  except  in  I^aris,  ought  to  be  imitated  there 
when  the  Grand  0])era  is  delinitely  reconstructed.  In 
this  way,  a  gentleman  leaves  his  seat  and  returns  to  it 
without  distui"l)ing  any  one. 

The  iirst  object  which  strikes  your  attention  as  you 
enter,  is  the  Imperial  box ;  it  is  not  placed,  as  in 
Parisian  theatres,  close  to  the  stage,  but  just  in  the 


THE  THEATRES.  147 

centre  of  the  liouse,  opposite  the  performers.  Its 
beif!:ht  cuts  tliron2;li  two  rows  of  boxes;  enormous 
gilded  staves,  loaded  with  carving,  support  velvet  cur- 
tains which  are  held  back  by  hcavj^  gold  cords,  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  gigantic  escutcheon  bearing  the  arms  of 
Russia  represented  in  the  proudest  and  most  highly  orna- 
mented style  of  heraldry.  A  lino  device  is  this  eagle, 
his  two  heads  topped  with  crowns,  his  wings  displayed, 
his  tail  spread  like  a  fan,  lu)lding  in  his  claws  the  globe 
and  the  sceptre,  beneath,  the  shield  of  St.  George,  and, 
like  the  decorations  of  orders,  upon  his  scale-clad  breast, 
the  armorial  bearings  of  the  kingdc^ns,  the  duchies,  and 
the  provinces.  -No  Greco-Pompeian  decoratioii  v.'ould 
be  so  satisfactory  to  the  eye  and  so  suitable  as  this. 

The  curtain  does  not  represent  velvet  hangings  with 
heavy  folds  and  deep  fringe,  but  it  is  a  view  of  Peter- 
hof,  with  its  arcades  and  porticos,  its  statues,  and  its 
roof,  painted  green  after  the  Russian  style.  The 
fa9ades  of  the' boxes,  placed  regularly  one  above  the 
other  in  tlie  Italian  fashion,  arc  ornamented  with  white 
mcdalHons  framed  in  gold,  the  ligures  painted  \n 
delicate  and  fiesh  cf)lor,  resembling  pastel,  relieved 
against  a  rose-colored  background.  There  are  neither 
galleries  nor  balconies ;  instead  of  the  columns  either 
side  of  the  stage  as  in  Paris,  the  same;  great  carved  and 
gilded  llag-staves  are  repeated,  and  the  arrangement  is 
graceful  and  novel. 

It  is  not  easy  to  define  the  style  of  the  interior  of  the 
building,  unless  I  borrow  from  the  Spanish  their  word 
plaferck-o,  which  properly  means  a  style  of  goldsmith's 
work,  and  is  used  to  designate  a  sort  of  architectui-e  in 
which  ornamentation  without  rule  or  limit  has  free 
})lav  in  a  thousand  exuberant  and  lavish  caprices.  It  is 
a  mass  of  architectural  embellishment  whose  gilding 
throws  back  the  light  of  the  chandeliers  at  a  thousand 
glittering  points;  the  general  effect  is  gay,  brilliant, 
and  successful,  and  the  luxuriously  de(;orateil  audience- 
room  is  well  suited  to  the  luxuriously  attired  audience. 


148  4  WINTER  Ilf  RUSSIA. 

This  mad  extravagance  in  tlie  decoration  of  a  theatre 
])leases  me  better  than  a  stupid  correctness  of  taste. 
In  a  ease  like  this,  extravagance  is  better  than  pedantry. 
With  velvet,  and  gold,  and  light  in  profusion,  what  moi-e 
could  any  one  desire  ! 

The  first  row  of  l)f>xes  above  the  parquette  is  called 
the  Lel-etage,  and,  Vs^ithont  any  formal  prohil3ition  in  re- 
gard to  tiie  matter,  this  lel-etage  is  reserved  for  tlie 
high  aristocracy  and  the  great  court  dignitaries.  No 
woman  untitled,  wdiatever  her  wealth  or  position,  would 
venture  to  be  seen  there;  her  presence  in  this  privileged 
spot  would  astound  everybody,  herself  most  of  all.  In 
Russia,  the  possession  of  great  wealth  is  not  enongh  to 
destroy  all  social  demarcations. 

The  first  rows  in  the  orchestra  are,  by  custom,  re- 
served for  persons  of  distinction ;  in  the  one  next  to  the 
musicians,  you  see  only  ministers  of  state,  generals  of 
the  army,  ambassadors,  first  secretaries  of  embassies, 
and  other  considerable  and  considered  personages. 
Any  celebrated  foreigner  of  rank  would  be  at  liberty 
to  sit  there.  The  two  rows  next  following  are  still 
aristocratic.  In  the  fourth  row  you  begin  to  find 
bankers,  foreigners,  functionaries  of  a  certain  rank, 
and  artists ;  but  no  man  of  business  would  think  of 
venturiug  beyond  the  fifth  or  sixth.  'It  is  a  sort  of  tacit 
agreeuieiit,  upon  which  nobody  insists,  but  to  which 
everybody  yields  obedience. 

This  faniiliar  way  of  sitting  in  the  orchestra  at  first 
sui-prised  me,  in  persons  of  so  high  position;  the  very 
highest  personages  in  the  euipire  are  seen  there.  To 
hn^ve  his  oi-clu'stra-stall  does  not  prevent  a  man's  having 
also  his  family  box;  but  the  former  is  the  place  i)re- 
ferrcd,  aud  licnce,  no  doubt,  has  arisen  the  discretion 
Vv'hich  keeps  the  ordinary  public  several  benches  off. 
Oue  ought  not  to  be  shocked  at  this  classification  in 
Russia,  wliere  the  Tchin  divides  society  into  fourteen 
well-marked  categories,  of  which  the  first  class  contains 
rarely  more  than  two  or  three  individuals  ! 


THE  THEATRES.  149 

At  the  Italian  Opera  in  St.  Petersburg,  the  opera  and 
the  ballet  are  not  performed  on  the  same  cv'ening. 
They  are  two  perfectly  distinct  performances,  and  each 
has  its  day.  The  subscription-price  for  the  ballet  is  less 
than  for  the  opera.  As  the  whole  entertainment  con- 
sists in  the  dancing,  the  ballets  are  much  longer  than  in 
Paris,  extending  to  four  or  five  acts,  many  tableanx 
and  transformations  ;  or  perhaps  two  will  be  performed 
in  the  same  evening. 

The  highest  celebrities  of  song  and  dance  have  ap- 
peared at  the  Grand  Theatre.  Every  star  comes  in  turn 
to  shine  in  this  polar  sky,  and  loses  none  of  its  brilliancy 
in  so  doing.  By  i-ubles  and  a  welcome,  all  chimerical 
apprehensions  of  loss  of  voice  and  rheumatisms  have 
been  overctome.  Not  a  throat,  not  a  knee  has  suffered 
in  this  land  of  snow,  where  yon  see  the  cold  without 
feeling  it,  Eubini,  Tambariiii,  Lablache,  Mario,  Grisi, 
Taglioni,  Elsler,  Carlwtta, — all  have  been  in  turn  ad- 
mired and  aj^preciated  here  ;  Itubini  has  received  dec- 
orations ;  imperial  applause  animates  the  artist,  and 
shows  him  that  he  is  nnderstood  and  valued ;  though 
many  of  them  have  been  late  in  ventnring  to  undertake 
the  journey. 

The  Russians  ai-e  gi-eat  Gonnoisseurs  in  the  ballet,  and 
the  fire  of  tlieir  loi-gnettos  is  to  be  dreaded.  Any  ono 
who  has  passed  through  it  victoriously  may  feel  hence- 
forth  secure.  Tiicir  Conservatory  of  Dancing  furnishes 
remarkaljle  instances  of  talent,  and  a  corps  de  hallet 
■which  has  not  its  equal,  for  harmony,  precision,  and  rapid- 
ity of  its  evolutions.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  see  these  lines 
■which  are  so  true,  these  groups,  so  ])orfectly  defined, 
which  break  up  at  the  given  moment,  to  re-form  nnder 
another  aspect ;  all  these  little  feet  falliug  in  cadence, 
all  these  choregraphic  battalions  which  never  become 
disorderly  or  confused  in  their  mancenvrcs !  It  is  a 
true  M'orld  of  pantomime,  from  which  speech  is  absent ; 
the  action  never  goes  beyond  its  limits.  This  corps  de 
hallet  is  chosen  with  care  from  amonii;  the  scholars  of 


150  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

the  conservatory ;  many  are  pretty,  all  are  young  and  of 
good  figure,  and  regard  their  employ  seriously, — their 
art,  if  you  prefer  to  call  it  so. 

The  decorations,  which  are  very  handsome  and  of 
great  variety,  are  the  work  of  German  painters.  The 
composition  is  frequently  ingenious,  poetic,  and  scien- 
tific, but  at  times  overloaded  with  useless  details  dis- 
J:racting  the  eye  and  impeding  the  effect.  The  coloring 
is  generally  pale  and  cold  ;  the  Germans  are  not  color- 
ists,  as  everybody  knows,  and  this  fault  is  very  marked 
when  the  observer  is  recently  froui  Paris,  where  they 
carry  the  magic  of  scene-paiuting  to  such  a  height.  As 
to  tlie  stage  itself,  -the  machinery  is  wonderful ;  the 
flights  in  air,  the  vanishings  into  the  ground,  the  trans- 
formations, the  plays  of  electric  light,  and  all  the  il- 
lusory effects  that  a  complicated  mise  en  scene  requires, 
are  executed  with  the  sm-cst  promptitude. 

As  I  have  said,  the  aspect  of  the  house  is  most  bril- 
liant; the  toilettes  of  the  women  are  enchantingly  set 
off  by  the  crimson  velvet  of  the  boxes  ;  and,  to  the 
stranger,  the  interlude  is  not  less  interesting  than  the 
performance.  Turning  liis  back  to  the  curtain  he  can, 
without  impropriety,  hold  under  his  opera-glass,  for  a 
few  moments,  these  types  of  female  beauty  so  varied, 
and,  to  him,  so  novel ;  and  some  friendly  neighl)or, 
having  his  Court  Guide  at  his  fingers'  ends,  will  call  by 
name,  for  his  benefit,  with  their  titles, — princess,  coun- 
tess, baroness, — these  blondes  and  these  brunettes,  who 
unite  the  dreaminess  of  the  North,  with  the  tranquillity 
of  the  Oriental  lands,  as  they  mingle  flowers  and  dia- 
monds together. 

In  the  half-light  of  the  parquet  boxes  sparkle  vaguely 
some  few  theatrical  celebi-ities,  two  or  three  Ho- 
hcmiennes  from  Moscow,  and  a  certain  number  of 
Baronesses  d'Ange,  ex])orted  from  the  Parisian  ilemi- 
monde,  wdiose  well-known  faces  have  no  ]ieed  to  be  an- 
nounced. 

The     Theatrc-Fran9ais,   called     also     the    Michael- 


THE  TUEATBES.  151 

Theatre,  stands  in  the  square  of  the  same  name.  Tlie 
interior,  commodiously  ])lanned  but  decorated  poorly, 
Isas,  like  the  Grand  Theatre,  its  orchestra  occupied  in  the 
first  rows  by  Russians  and  foreigners  of  distinction.  It 
is  very  much  frequented,  and  comedy,  vaudeville,  and 
drama  are  played  there  with  distinguished  ability.  The 
actors  vie  with  each  other  in  procuring  novelties  for 
their  benefit  nights,  which  are  Saturdays  and  Sundays, 
and  a  new  piece  is  brought  out  almost  as  soon  at  St. 
Petersburg  as  it  is  at  Paris,  and  one  cannot  fail  to  feel 
a  cei'tain  pride  in  seeing,  in  this  far  northern  city,  at  so 
great  a  distance  from  Paris,  that  oui-  language  prevails 
sufficiently  to  support  a  theatre  exclusively  French,  the 
'•  French  colony  "  itself  not  tilling  more  than  one  half 
the  theatre  at  most. 

During  my  sojourli  in  the  City  of  the  Czars,  a  cele- 
brated American  negro  actor  chanced  to  be  there  for  a 
time,  Ira  Aldjigge  by  name.  lie  was  the  lion  of  St. 
Pctei'sburg,  and  it  was  necessary  to  go  some  days  be- 
forehand tt)  obtain  a  good  seat  at  one  of  his  perform- 
ances, lie  played  Othello  first,  and  his  origin  exempted 
him  from  all  need  of  artitical  coloring, — liquorice- 
juice,  or  coffee-grounds,  or  sleeves  of  chocolate-colored 
net.  He  had  the  right  skin  already,  and  was  spared 
the  trouble  of  assuming  it.  Consequently,  his  appear- 
ance on  the  scene  was  magnificent;  it  was  Othello  him- 
self as  Shakespeare  has  created  him, — his  eyes  half-shut, 
as  if  da;izled  by  an  x\frican  sun,  his  nonchalant  oriental 
beariug,  and  that  easy  negro  gait  which  no  European 
can  imitate.  As  there  was  no  English  troupe  at  St. 
Petersburg,  but  only  a  German  one,  Ira  Aldrigge  re- 
cited the  text  of  Shakespeare,  while  his  interlocutors, 
lago,  Cassio,  and  Desdemuna,  ansvrered  him  in  Schlcgel's 
translation.  The  two  languages,  both  of  Teutonic 
origin,  did  not  go  badly  together,  especially  to  one  who, 
like  myself, nnderstanding  neither  English  nor  German, 
gave  his  attention  princi[>ally  to  the  play  of  features, 
the  gestures,  and  the  attitudes  of  the  actors.     Uut  it 


152  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

must  have  been  a  droll  raedley  to  those  who  were  fa- 
iniliar  with  both  idioms.  I  was  anticipatiDg  a  manner 
like  that  of  Kean,  energetic,  violent,  stormy, — a  little 
savage,  perhaps  ;  but  the  great  negro  tragedian,  doubtless 
wishing  to  appear  as  civilized  as  a  wliite  man,  had  a 
rational,  moderate,  classic,  majestic  style,  much  resem- 
bling Macready's.  In  the  final  scene,  his  f urj''  never 
went  beyond  certain  limits;  he  smothered  Desdemona 
in  the  most  considerate  manner,  and  roared  with  deco- 
rum. In  a  word,  so  far  as  I  could  judge,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, he  seemed  to  have  more  talent  than  genius, 
more  knowledge  than  inspiration.  At  the  same  time, 
he  unquestionably  produced  an  immense  effect,  and  re- 
ceived endless  rounds  of  applause.  An  Othello  not  so 
black  and  more  ferocious  would  perhaps  liave  had  lesa 
success.  After  all,  Othello  has  been  diving  among 
Christians  for  some  time ;  the  lion  of  St.  Mark  must 
have  tamed  the  desert  lion. 

The  rejpertoire  of  a  negro  actor  would  seem  to  be  lim 
ited  to  colored  pieces  ;  but,  when  you  think  of  it,  if  a  white 
comedian  besmirches  himself  with  bistre  to  play  a  black 
role,  why  should  not  a  black  comedian  paint  himself  white 
to  play  a  white  role  \  It  has  been  done.  Ira  Aldrigge, 
the  following  week,  played  King  Lear,  and  all  recpii 
site  illusion  was  perfectly  produced.  A  flesh-colored 
skull-cap,  whence  hung  some  few  locks  of  silvery  hair,, 
covered  his  woolly  curls  and  came  down  to  his  eyebrows ; 
a  wax  addition  v/as  made  to  his  own  flat  nose,  and  a 
thick  coat  of  paint  covered  his  cheeks.  For  the  rest,  a 
great  white  beard  concealed  tlie  lower  part  of  his  face, 
and  fell  upon  his  breast:  the  transformation  was  com- 
plete. Cordelia  never  could  have  suspected  that  her 
father  was  a  black  man!  l^o  make-up  was  ever  better 
contrived.  Through  a  kind  of  vanity,  which  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at,  the  actor  had  not  whitened  hi§  hands, 
and  they  appearecl  below  his  sleeves  as  brown  as  the 
paws  of  a  monkey.  Tlie  King  Lear  v,'as  a  better  perfor- 
mance than  the  Othclloj  in  my  judgment.      In  the  for- 


THE  TUEATUES.  153 

mer  he  acted  his  part,  in  the  latter  he  was  simply  him- 
self. He  had  superlj  outbursts  of  iudignatiou  aud  fury, 
accompanied  by  attacks  of  weakness  and  senile  trem- 
blings, and  a  sort  of  soranolent.babl)ling,  as  one  would  ex- 
pect in  an  old  man,  almost  a  centenarian,  passing  from 
idiocy  to  madness,  under  the  weights  of  intolerable  woes. 
One  thing  in  the  performance  was  remarkable,  showing 
how  perfect  was  the  actor's  mastery  over  himself ;  al- 
though a  man  of  robust  strength  and  in  the  flower  of 
his  age,  Ira  Aldrigge  never,  throngh  all  the  evening, 
allowed  one  youthful  motion  to  escape  him  ;  voice,  step, 
and  gesture,  all  were  those  of  extreme  old  age. 

The  successes  of  this  black  tragedian  ])irpiod  to  emu- 
lation the  great  Russian  actor,  Samoili  )ft' ;  he  also  per- 
formed Lear  and  Othello,  at  the  Alexander  Theatre, 
with  an  energy  and  a  power  truly  Shakespearian.  Som- 
oilofi:  is  an  actor  whose  style  resembles  Frederick ;  he  is 
unequal,  capricious,  often  sublime,  full  of  flashes  aud 
inspirations.  He  is  at  once  terrible  and  burlesque  ;  he 
can  represent  with  equal  ability  the  hero  or  the  drunken 
man,  and  is  besides  personally  a.  gentleman  of  most 
pleasing  manners.  An  artist  to  the  finger-tips,  he  de- 
signs his  own  costumes,  and  draws  caricatures  that  are 
as  clever  in  the  execution  as  they  are  in  the  idea.  YLm 
performances  were  well  attended,  though  not  so  sue-- 
cessful  as  those  of  Ira  Aldrigge.  But  SemoilofE  could 
not  make  himself  a  negro! 
7* 


XIII. 

THE   TCHOUKIKE-DYOR. 

EVERT  city  has  its  mj^stevions  receptacle  hidden 
somewhere,  far  avv-aj  from  the  centre  of  the  town, 
which  the  stranger,  whose  liabits  lead  him  day  after  day 
through  the  same  net-work  of  fashionable  streets,  never 
sees  ;  its  rubbish  lieap,  whereon  are  thrown  the  debris  of 
luxnrj^,  soiled,  faded,  and  past  all  recognition,  yet  still 
good  enough  to  find  purchasers  at  fifth  or  sixth  hand. 
To  this  come  at  last  the  tasteful  bonnets,  the  'dainty 
triumphs  of  the  milliner,  now  shapeless,  torn,  and  soiled, 
fit  to  coif  a  learned  donkey  ;  to  this,  the  line  black  broad- 
cloth coat  which  was  once  starred  with  decorations,  and 
figured  at  splendid  entertainments ;  to  this,  the  dresses 
of  a  single  evening,  thrown  in  the  morning  to  the 
feinme  de  chamhre, — the  yellowed  blonde,  the  frayed 
lace,  the  worn  fur ;  and  here,  too,  are  the  countless 
pieces  of  cast-off  furniture.  It  is,  in  short,  the  very 
humus  and  stratum  of  civilizations.  Paris  has  its  Tem- 
ple ;  Madrid,  its  Rastro  ;  Constantinople,  \i%  JBazaar  des 
2)oux ;  St.  Petersburg,  its  Tchoukine-Dvor, — a  rag-fair 
most  curious  to  visit. 

Let  us  drive  up  the  Newsky  Prospekt,  past  the  Gas- 
thiui-Dvor,  a  kind  of  Palais  Royal  with  galleries  and 
elegant  sliops,  and  just  at  this  point  say  to  the  isvocht- 
chik,  "  Na  leva !  "  Turning  to  the  left,  you  will  cross 
two  or  three  streets,  and  find  yourself  at  yom*  destina- 
tion. 

Let  us  enter — if  your  olfactory  nerves  are  not  too  deli- 
cate— through  the  bazaar  of  shoes  and  leather.  The 
strong  odor  of  the  leather  combined  with  a  musty  smell 
of  sour  cabbage  forms  a  perfume  peculiar  to  the  spot. 


THE  TCnOUKINE-DVOR.  155 

Strangers  notice  it  more  than  do  the  Russians  them- 
selves, but  I  confess  it  is  not  easy  to  become  accustomed 
to  it.  One  must  not,  however,  be  fastidious,  if  he  wishes 
to  see  ever3'thing. 

The  booths  iu  the  Tchoukine-Dvor,  are  made  of  ends  of 
]!lanks;  they  are  paltry  little  sheds,  and  the  snow,  whose 
immaculate  whiteness  lay  fresh  on  their  roofs  that  day, 
made  their  lilthy  appearance  even  more  offensive. 

Festoons  of  old  greasy  leather  boots, — and  what 
boots  ! — stiffened  skins  of  animals  which  recalled,  in  a 
sort  of  sinister  caricature,  the  figure  of  the  living  crea- 
ture, and  touloupes,  ragged  and  dirty,  yet  still  keeping 
a  vague  impress  of  their  former  wearer,  formed  a  com- 
])Osite  decoration  of  the  frontage  of  each  booth.  Hang- 
ing, as  it  was,  iu  the  open  air,  and  with  here  and  there 
a  little  snow  resting  on  it,  all  this  had  the  most 
wretchedly  doleful  aspect,  nnder  a  lowering,  yellowish- 
gray  slcy.  The  merchants  were  scarcely  more  attractive 
than  their  merchandise  ;  and  yet  Kembrandt,  had  he 
seen  them,  could  have  made,  with  a  few  scratches  on  a 
l)late  of  polished  copper,  some  miracle  of  an  etcliing 
of  these  bearded  men  wrapped  in  sheepskins,  and  given 
jit  one  flash  a  redeeming  character  to  all  this  sordid 
squalor.     Art  finds  its  wealth  everywhere. 

A  multitude  of  narrow  lanes  intersect  one  another  in 
the  Tchoukine-Dvor,  and  each  trade  has  its  own  special 
(puirter.  Numerous  little  c]ia])els  sliowing,  by  the  lamp- 
light within,  the  silver  and  gilt  of  their  miniature  icon- 
ostases,  shine  at  the  cornei's  of  these  lanes.  Elsewhere 
throughout  the  Tchoukine-Dvor,  light  is  forbidden;  a 
spark  might  set  in  blaze  this  collection  of  rubbish. 
()nly  for  the  glorifying  of  their  religious  pictures,  do 
they  brave  the  danger,  and  the  masses  of  goldsmith's 
work  in  this  gloomy  and  squalid  place  gleam  with  strange 
splendor.  Buyers  and  sellers,  as  they  pass  these  cha]>els, 
make  countless  signs  of  the  cross,  in  the  Greek  fashion. 
Some  of  the  most  devout,  or  the  least  busy,  prostrate 
themselves,  the  forehead  touching  the  snow,  murmur  a 


156  .  -4  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

prayer,  and,  as  tliey  rise,  throw  a  kopeck  into  tlie  box 
fastened  by  the  door. 

One  of  the  most  cnrions  streets  in  the  Tchoukine- 
Dvor  is  that  where  religions  pictures  are  s(^ld.  If  one  vrere 
not  quite  sure  of  the  date,  he  might  think  liimself  in 
the  Middle  Ages,  so  archaic  is  the  style  of  these  jjaint- 
ings,  for  the  most  part  the  work  of  yesterday.  In  all 
this  work,  Russia  preserves  with  the  greatest  fidelity 
her  Byzantine  traditions.  Her  religious  painters  seem 
to  have  served  apprenticeship  on  Mt.  Athos  in  the  con- 
vent of  Agria  Lavria,  in  accordance  Avith  the  manual  of 
painting,  compiled  by  the  monk  Deuys,  the  pupil  of 
JPanselinos,  the  Rapliael  of  this  very  peculiar  form  of 
art,  in  which  too  exact  an  imitation  of  nature  is  re- 
garded as  a  sort  of  idolatry. 

These  shops  are  lined  with  sacred  objects  from  floor 
to  ceiling;  brown-faced  Madonnas,  copies  of  St.  Luke's 
portrait  <)f  the  Virgin,  in  stamped  drapery  of  gold  or 
silver;  Christs  and  saints,  all  the  more  appreciated  by 
the  faithful,  the  more  primitively  barbarous  they  ai-e ; 
pictures  representing  scenes  from  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments,  a  multitude  of  figures  in  stiff  attitude,  the 
coloring  purposely  embrowned  and  covered  with  a  yel- 
low varnish,  as  are  the  frames  of  Persian  mirrors,  to  sim- 
ulate the  smoke  of  centuries  ;  plates  of  bronze,  articula- 
ted like  the  leaves  of  a  screen,  framing  a  series  of  scrip- 
tural bas-reliefs ;  crosses  of  oxydized  silver  of  a  graceful 
Greco-Byzantine  form,  on  which  a  world  of  microsco])ic 
figures,  in  the  space  left  free  by  the  old  Slavonic  inscrip- 
tions, represent  the  sacred  Drama  of  Golgotha ;  orna- 
mented covei-s  for  books,  and  a  thousand  other  little 
devotional  objects. 

Some  of  these  pictures,  finished  with  more  cai-e, 
gilded  or  veneered  more  richly,  rise  to  considerable 
l)riccs.  It  is  useless  to  look  for  any  merit  in  them  as 
works  of  art;  but  all,  even  the  most  coarsel}^  executed, 
have  an  amount  of  character  in  them  that  is  truly  as- 
tonishing.    Their   rude  forms,  the  crudcncss   of  their 


TUE  TCUOUKINE-BVOR.  157 

coloring,  and  the  mixture  of  goldsmith's  work  and  paint- 
ing, <i;ivc  theta  a  certain  officially  religions  stamp,  better 
suited,  i^crhaps,  to  stinmlate  devotion  than  a  more  skil- 
ful work  of  art  would  be.  All  these  objects  are  identi- 
calW  similar  to  those  which  their  ancestors  revered. 
Immutable  as  dogma,  they  are  perpetuated  fi'om  age  to 
age  ;  al-t  has  liad  no  bearing  upon  them,  and  to  correct' 
them,  in  spite  of  their  rudeness  .and  their  simplicity, 
would  have  seemed  a  sacrilege.  The  blac^ker,  more 
smoky,  more  rigid  and  ungraceful  is  the  Madumia,  tlie 
more  confidence  she  inspires  in  the  believer  at  whom 
she  looks  with  her  great  sombre  eyes,  unchanging  as 
eternity. 

At  the  same  time,  it  must  be  owned  that  a  modern 
taste  has  invaded  higher  quarters  in  Russian  society. 
At  St.  Isaac's,  and  in  other  chapels  and  churches  of  re- 
cent construction,  Avhilc  the  general  appearance  and 
consecrated  attitude  is  preserved,  the  artist  has  not  been 
afraid  to  give  to  his  Madonnas  all  the  ideal  beauty  that 
he  could;  he  has  cleared  the  faces  of  his  wild  an{' 
bearded  saints  from  their  coating  of  bistre,  and  restore(< 
them  to  a  iunnan  complexion.  From  an  artistic  poini 
of  view,  no  doubt  this  is  better,  hut  ])erhap3  the  relig 
ious  effect  may  be  weakened.  The  Byzanthic-Ilussiai ; 
style,  with  its  gold  backgrounds,  the  rif^-id  synunetry  oi'' 
its  forms  and  its  use  of  metals  and  precious  stones,  lendn 
itself  admirably  to  church  decoration  ;  it  has  a  niysteri- 
ous  and  supernatural  air  that  harmonizes  well  with  the 
purpose  for  v.'hich  it  is  designed. 

In  one  of  these  booths,  t  discovered,  arranged  as  a 
Greek  Madonna,  a  little  copy  of  the  Vierge  dVhostie 
of  Ingres.  The  hands  joined  in  prayer,  the  fingers 
touching  delicately  at  the  tips,  were  not  l)adly  done,  in 
spite  of  the  difficulty  of  t\\Q  pose ;  and  the  head  pre- 
served to  a  considei-able  degree  tlic  cliaracter  of  its 
original.  I  scarcely  could  have  expected  to  iind  in  the 
Tchoukine-Dvor,  a  souvenir  of  this  illustrious  master. 
How  and  by  what  paths  did  it  come  to  serve  as  a  pat- 


'158  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

tern  for  a  Russian  sacred  picture  ?  I  asked  the  price. 
They  charged  but  ten  rubles  for  it,  because  it  had  no 
silver  ornamentation. 

The  dealers  in  sacred  objects  are  more  decent  in  their 
attire  than  their  neighbors,  the  sellers  of  leather.  They 
wear,  in  general,  the  old  Russian  costume,  the  caftan  of 
blue  or  green  cloth,  fastened  with  a  button  near  the 
shoulder,  girt  at  the  waist  by  a  narrow  belt ;  the  hair 
parted  in  the  middle  is  long  on  either  side  and  cut  short 
at  the  back,  leaving  the  neck  free,  the  blonde  or  brown 
beard  thick  aud  curled.  The  faces  of  many  of  them  are 
beautiful,  serious,  intelligent,  and  gentle,  and  would 
serve  as  a  m<xlel  for  the  Christs  they  sell,  did  not  By- 
zantine art  forbid  the  imitation  of  nature  in  its  sacred 
pictures.  When  they  see  that  you  stop  before^  their 
booths,  they  courteously  invite  you  to  enter,  and  if  you 
should  buy  nothing  but  the  merest  trifles,  they  will 
gladly  show  you  everything,  calling  your  attention,  not 
without  a  certain  pride,  to  their  richest  or  most  thiely 
wrought  wares. 

Kodiing  is  more  curious  tt)  the  stranger  than  these 
Russian  shops.  He  can  most  easily  deceive  himself  in 
buying  for  an  antique  something  perfectly  modern;  in 
Russia,  the  ancient  dates  from  yesterday,  and  the  same 
forms,  in  religious  representations,  are  repeated  without 
variation.  Pictures  which  a  connoisseur,  an  expert 
oven,  would  take  for  the  work  of  some  Greek  monk  of 
the  iiintli  or  tenth  century,  have  often  just  come  from  an 
adjoining  atelier,  the  gold  varnish  scarcely  yet  dry. 

It  is  amusing  to  see  the  na'ive  and  pious  admiration 
of  the  mujik,  passing  through  the  street,  which  might  be 
called  the  Holy  Street  of  the  Tchoul<ine-Dvor.  Not- 
withstanding the  cold,  he  stands  still  in  ecstasy  before 
the  saints  and  madonnas,  and  dreams  of  possessing; 
some  such  picture  to  hang  up,  with  a  lamp  in  front  of 
it,  in  a  corner  of  his  cabin  built  of  fir-logs.  But  he 
goes  away,  regarding  the  purchase  as  beyond  his  means. 
Now  and  then,  one  richer  than  the  rest,  enters,  after 


THE  TCnOUKINE-DVOR.  159 


having  fingered  the  httle  roll  of  pa])cr  rul^les  stowed 
away  ni  his  purse,  to  see  if  it  seems  thick  enough,  and, 
after   long   discussion,  emerges,  bringing  his  purchase 
carefully  wrapped  u]).     They  do  their  reckoning  in  the 
Cliinese   manner,   with   an   abacus,   a   kind   of    frame 
crossed  by  iron  wires,  on  which  are  strung  balls  that  are 
moved  up  and  down  according  to  the  figures  to  be  added. 
Not  everybody  is  a  purchaser  in  the  Tclioukine-Dvor ; 
its  narrow  lanes  are  crowded  with  a  checkered  popula- 
tion, for  the  most  part  idlers  merely  ;  the  mujik  in  his 
touloupe,  the  soldier  in  gray  capote,  elbow  the  gentle- 
man in  his  pelisse,  and  the  anticpiary  hoping  for  some 
treasure, — a  hope  but  seldom  satisfied,  for  simplicity  has 
taken  its  fiight  from  this  bazaar,  and,  to  be  on  the  safe 
side,  the  dealers  ask  extravagant  prices  for  the   least 
trities.     A  regret  for  having  parted  cheaply  ^vith  some 
rare  object  of  whose  value  they  were  ignorant,  has  ren- 
dered them  more  jealous  than  the  Auvergnats  of  the 
Ene  de  Lappe.     A  little  of  everything  may  be  found  in 
thisl)azaar;  the  old  books  have  their  cpiarter,  French, 
lEnglish,  Gernuin,  from  all  countries  in  the  world,  they 
are" stranded  here  ujjOU  the  snow  among  Russian  books, 
odd  volumes,  ragged,  stained,  and  worm-eaten.     Some- 
times the  patient  investigator  will  find  among  heai)s  of 
trash,  an  incunabulum,  a  first  edition,  a  lost  book,  long 
out  of  print,  which  has  made   its  way  at   last   to   the 
Tclioukine-Dvor  through  a  series  of  adventures  strange 
enough  to  furnish  material  for  a  humorous  Odyssey. 
Some  of  these  booksellers  do  not  know  how  to  read,  a 
circumstance  which  by  no  means  prevents  them  from 
perfectly  understanding  their  merchandise. 

There  are  also  booths  for  engravings  and  black  or 
colored  lithographs.  You  will  frequently  meet  portraits 
of  Alexander  1.,  or  the  Emperor  Nicholas,  of  grand- 
dukes  and  grand-duchesses,  high  dignitaries  and  gener- 
als of  former  reigns,  drawn  by  hands  more  zealous  than 
skilful,  and  giving  a  strani2;e  idea  of  their  august 
models.     It  may  be  easily  believed  that  there  are  uumer- 


IGO  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ou.s  copies  of  the  Quatre  Parties  du  Monde,  the  Quatre 
Saisons,  the  Demande  en  Marriage,  the  N'oce,  the  Cou- 
cher  et  le  Lever  de  la  inariee.,  and  all  the  horrible  daubs 
of  the  Rue  Saint-Jacques. 

Among  the  loiterers  and  the  purchasers,  women  are  in 
the  minority ;  it  would  l)e  the  other  way  in  Paris.  The 
Russian  women,  although  nothing  compels  them  to  do 
so,  seem  to  have  preserved  the  oriental  habit  of  sechi- 
sion  ;  they  rarely  go  out.  Scarcely  will  you  see,  at  re- 
mote intervals,  a  solitary  female  mujik,  her  kerchief 
knotted  under  the  chin,  her  overcoat  of  cloth  or  felt 
drawn  around  her  heavy  skirts  like  a  man's  redingote, 
with  thick  leatlier  boots,  stumbling  through  the  snow, 
leaving  tracks  that  could  not,  it  would  seem,  belong  to 
the  more  delicate  half  of  the  human  race  ;  the  other 
women,  those  who  stop  before  the  shop-windows,  are 
Goriiuuis  or  other  foreigners.  In  the  booths  of  the 
Tchoukinc-Dvor,  as  in  the  bazaars  of  Smyrna  or. Con- 
stantinople, men  are  the  dealers.  I  do  not  remember 
seeing  a  Russian  shop-woman. 

Tlie  street  of  second-hand  furniture  would  furnish 
material  for  a  series  of  lectures  on  domestic  economy, 
and  would  throw  much  light  upon  Russian  home  life 
for  any  man  who  knew  how  to  decipher  from  these 
fragments  in  various  stages  of  preservation,  the  history 
of  their  former  owners  :  all  styles  are  represented  here^ 
fashions  gone-by  form  regular  stratifications;  each 
period  deposits  its  layer.  The  predominating  objects 
are  those  great  green-leather  sofas,  a  truly  Russian  arti- 
cle of  furniture. 

Elsewhere  are  trunks,  valises,  li.arsines,  and  other 
articles  of  a  traveller's  outfit,  extending  into  the  middle 
of  the  street  and  half  buried  under  snow ;  then  old 
saucepans,  ironware  of  every  kind,  broken-nosed  jugs, 
wooden  bowls,  utensils  out  of  use,  no  longer  having 
names  in  any  tongue,  fragments  of  cloth  that  are  noth- 
ing more  than  lint,  coming  only  into  the  rag-pickers' 
province.      If  it  were   not  near  zero,   an   ex])edition 


TUE  TCnOUKINE-DVOR.  101 

through  a  region  like  this  would  have  its  perils,  but  all 
the  swarming  tribe  pei'ishes  in  such  a  temperature. 
Had  it  been  warmer  weather  the  danger  for  me  would 
have  been  increased  by  the  pi'oximity  of  an  organ- 
grinder,  who  followed  me  persistently  in  the  hope  of 
a  few  kopecks,  which  I  was  for  some  time  reluctant  to 
open  my  pelisse  far  enough  to  obtain  for  him.  This 
organ-grinder  was  a  most  grotesque  and  characteristic 
object.  A  greasy  rag  fringed  out  at  the  edges  sur- 
rounded his  head  like  a  mock  diadem  ;  an  old  bear-skin, 
once  the  apron  of  a  droschky,  covered  liis  shoulders,  and, 
projecting  over  the  case  of  the  organ,  designed  for  the 
poor  wretch  a  hump  upon  the  lower  part  of  his  back, 
which  contrasted  oddly  with  his  lean  figure.  Really  it 
was  not  easy  to  account  for  this  hump  so  unusually 
situated,  for  nothing  but  the  crank  of  the  organ  came 
through  the  matted  fur,  and  the  hand  turning  it  recalled 
the  gesture  of  a  monkey  scratching  himself  eagerly. 

A  kind  of  baize  tunic  notclied  in  saw  teeth  around 
the  edge,  and  felt  boots,  completed  the  costume.  The 
boots  alone  were  a  whole  poem  of  poverty  and  dilapida- 
tion. Crushed,  mis-shapen,  wrinkled,  they  were  half 
as  long  again  as  the  foot,  and  their  toes  rose  up  like 
peaks  of  a  Chinese  roof,  so  that  the  legs  seemed  to  curve 
under  the  weight  gf  the  torso  and  the  organ,  as  if  they 
had  contained  no  tibias.  The  poor  fellow  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  walking  upon  two  sickles. 

As  to  the  face,  it  suggested  one  of  Gavarni's  figures  ; 
a  many-sided  nose  flattened  between  two  projecting, 
cheek-bones,  over  a  wide  mouth  in  a  tangle  of  wrinkles, 
was  the  most  perceptible  feature,  for  the  elf-locks  of 
the  hair  and  beard,  glued  together  with  morsels  of  ice, 
prevented  me  from  catching  the  outlines  of  the  face; 
however,  from  beneath  the  shaggy  eyebrows  gleamed 
a  little  steel-blue  eye,  exj^rossing  a  kind  of  philosophic 
mischief.  The  Russian  v/inter  had  illuminated  with  its 
northern  red  this  co])y  in  flesh  and  rags  of  a  Parisian 
lithograph,  till  it  was  like  a  tomato  surrounded  with  tow. 


1(52  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

The  ori^au,  concealed  under  the  bear-skin,  wlien  its 
master  teased  it  with  tlie  crank,  whined  lamentably, 
seemed  to  bei^  for  mercy,  uttered  asthmatic  sighs, 
coughed,  wheezed  like  one  dying.  Occasionally  with 
the  few  teeth  left  on  its  wheel,  it  bit  into  two  or  three 
airs  of  a  former  age,  wavering,  feeble,  tremidous,  dole- 
fully comic,  false  enough  to  make  the  dogs  howl,  but 
touching,  after  all,  as  those  refrains  of  other  days  which 
the  great-grandmother  a  hundred  years  old,  fallen  into 
her  dotage,  murmurs  with  broken  voice  and  whistling 
breath.  At  last  these  spectres  of  songs  came  to  be 
something  fearful. 

Sure  of  the  effect  of  his  instrument,  and  seeing  that 
he  had  a  stranger  to  deal  Avith. — for  towards  a  Russian 
be  would  nor,  have  allowed  himself  such  urgency — the 
rogue,  with  the  volubility  of  a  monkey,  kept  <>n  turn- 
ing his  crank  until,  when  he  had  made  himself  suffi- 
ciently intolerable,  a  great  handful  of  copper  reduced 
him  to  silence;  he  received  my  kopecks  with  a  smile, 
and,  to  prove  his  gratitude,  stopped  short  in  a  waltz  just 
commenced.     The  organ  uttered  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

I  have  described  the  picturesque  side  of  the  Tchou- 
kine-Dvor.  It  was  the  one  most  amusing  to  me. 
There  are,  besides,  covered  passage-ways  bordered  mtli 
shops  containing  articles  of  daily  consumption  of  all 
kinds :  smoked  fish  for  the  long  Greek  Lent ;  olives ; 
butter  white  as  that  which  comes  from  Odessa;  green 
apples ;  red  berries,  of  which  they  make  tarts ;  new  fur- 
iiiture ;  clothing;  boots  and  shoes  ;  clothing  materials,  and 
jewcby  for  the  common  people ; — all  this  is  curious,  but 
nothiuir  is  more  sino;ular  than  this  oriental  bazaar  itself 
spread  out  in  the  midst  of  the  snow. 


XIV. 

zicnY. 

IF  you  walk  on  the  Newsky  Prospekt  in  St.  Peters- 
|)ni-g — and  it  is  as  difficult  to  avoid  doing  this  as  it  is, 
when  you  arc  in  Venice,  to  keep  away  from  the  Plaza 
di  Sau  Marco;  in  Kaples,  from  tiie  Strada  di  Toledo;  in 
Madrid,  from  the  Puerta  del  Sol,  or  in  Paris,  from  the 
Boulevard  dcs  Italicus — you  will  doubtless  observe  JBeg- 
grow's  shop.  In  front  of  it,  tlie  sidewalk  is  always 
blocked  with  a  curious  crowd,  wlio,  quite  regardless  of 
the  cold,  stand  gazing  with  interest  at  the  oil-paintiugs, 
water-colors,  engravings,  pliotograjihs,  statuettes,  e\en 
the  color-boxes  in  the  window.  Above  the.gronp  the 
vapor  of  many  breaths  is  condensed  into  a  ch>ucl,  and 
forms,  so  to  speak,  a  permanent  fog  ;  to  it  you  will  not 
fail  to  add  your  own,  as  you  wait  your  chance  to  reach 
the  window  when  some  spectator  shall  suddenly  and 
most  opportunely  recollect  that  he  has  business  at  the 
other  end  of  the  city,  over  the  Anischkov  Pridge  in  the 
Ligowka,  or  across  the  river  in  the  remotest  avenue  of 
Vassili-Ostrov.  If,  however,  you  are  not  yet  quite  ac- 
clhnated,  and  the  severity  of  the  cold  is  alarming,  boldly 
turn  the  handle  of  the  door,  and  fearlessly  enter  this 
sanctuary.  Peggrow  is  a  young  man  of  finished  man- 
ners, and  truly  a  gentleman ;  thongh  you  should 
make  no  purchase,  ha  will  treat  you  with  faultless  po- 
liteness, and  will  courteously  show  you  all  his  treasures. 
The  artist,  the  society  man,  the  scholar,  the  amateur, 
fi-cquent  this  shop,  as  they  do  Desforges'  in  Paris;  it 
is  the  place  to  look  over  portfolios,  to  examine  the  new 
engravings,  to  air  one's  fKsthetics,  and  to  obtain  the 
latest  intelliiieuce  in  the  world  of  art. 


1G4  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

One  day  wlien  I  was  there  looking  over  some  helio- 
graphic  prof)fs,  a  great  water-color  placed  in  a  corner 
npon  an  easel  drew  my  attention  l)y  its  warm  and  bril- 
liant coloring,  altliongli  it  was  already  too  late  in  the 
afternoon  for  the  light  to  he  good.  I  have  noticed,  how- 
ever, that  paintings,  especially  those  of  a  high  order, 
sometimes  at  this  hour  have  a  magical  phosphorescence. 
It  would  seem  that  they  retain  and  concentrate  for  a 
moment  the  light  that  they  are  about  to  lose. 

I  drew  nearer,  and  found  myself  in  the  pi'eseuce  of  a 
work  of  art  which  it  was  impossible  to  ascribe  to  any 
known  master,  and  yet  one  which  au}^  of  them  would 
have  been  glad  to  claim.  It  was  not  Boningtou,  it 
was  not  Louis  Boulanger,  it  was  not  Eugene  Lami,  nor 
Cattermole,  nor  Lewis,  nor  Delacroix,  nor  Decamps, 
nor  any  of  those  who  liave  carried  into  the  use  of  water- 
colors  all  the  strength  and  i-ichness  of  oil;  this  manner 
was  perfectly  new,  this  handling  original ;  it  was  a  sur- 
prise, a  discovery,  an  unclassilled  vintage  in  the  domaiu'. 
of  art  of  a  taste,  a  bouquet,  a  flavor,  'imusual  but  ex- 
quisite. 

The  picture  represented  a  Florentine  orgie  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  Some  old  nobles,  accomplished  liber- 
tines, ancient  wrecks  of  elegance,  have  been  at  supper 
with  some  young  courtesans.  Upon  the  pillaged  and 
devastated  table  glitter  water-jars,  vases,  dishes  for 
sweetmeats,  boxes  for  spicery,  carved  in  the  manner  of 
Benvenuto  Cellini ;  heel-taps  of  wine  gleam  with  ruby 
and  topaz  lights  at  the  bottom  of  cups  and  flagons ; 
fruits  and  leaves  together  have  rolled  off  the  enamelled 
platters.  In  the  background,  whose  transparent  dark- 
ness concentrates  the  light  full  upon  the  groups  of  fig- 
ures, you  faintly  discern  the  faded  frescos  and  tapes- 
tries, side-boards,  shelves,  carved  cabinets,  here  and 
there  a  bluish  fillet  marking  the  relief ;  and  in  the  com- 
partments of  the  ceiling  you  guess  at  rather  tjian  per- 
ceive the  gilded  and  painted  arabesques.  The  figures, 
with  the  case  of  their  motion,  the  vai'iety  of  their  atti- 


ZWUY.  105 

tude,  tlicir  postures  canp^bt  upon  the  instant,  tlio  liold 
foreshortenino",  the  drawini^  so  free  and  true,  l)et]'ajed 
^a  talent  long  since  sure  of  itself,  nourished  upon  stj'ongj 
studies,  knowing  ]:)erfectly  what  great  painting  is,  and 
bending  the  human  ligure  into  postures  of  every  kind, 
even  those  which  a  model  would  scarcely  know  how  to 
assume.  The  young  women,  their  extravagant  toilette 
a  little  disordered,  laugh  and  throw  themselves  back, 
displaying  the  false  gayety  of  the  courtesan,  and  but 
half  resisting  the  attack  which  they  know  is  without 
danger;  fatigue,  disgust,  and  ennui  pierce  through  the 
paint  and  the  artificial  laughter.  One,  turning  av\'ay  a 
little,  seems  to  dream  of  her  young  lover,  or  of  her  years 
of  innocence ;  another  appears,  through  her  scornful 
abandon.,  to  be  possessed  with  a  mad  whim  to  pluck  off 
the  wig  of  the  superannuated  libertine  who  kneels  with 
difiiciilty  at  her  feet,  in  the  gallant  fashion  of  a  by-gone 
day ;  but  the  power  of  the  yellow  metal  concpiers  and 
over-rules  all  these  fancies ;  and  in  their  gracious  atti- 
tudes, full  of  a  secret  deference,  one  can  see  that  women 
such  as  these,  find  no  man,  however  old  or  ugly,  utterly 
ridiculous,  so  long  as  he  is  rich.  Besides,  these  old 
nobles,  despite  the  traces  of  ago  and  of  evil  living,  ren- 
dered perhaps  even  more  evident  by  the  efforts  made  to 
conceal  them,  have  a  grand  air  still,  in  their  garments 
whose  elegance  is  extravagant,  like  Vittore  Carpaccio's 
line  costumes,  and  whose  youthful  cut  becomes  un- 
shapely on  the  broken-down  figures,  the  withered  or 
heavy  limbs.  In  their  plastered  wrinkles  more  than  one 
profound  meditation,  worthy  of  Machiavclli,  may  be 
read;  and  may  he  road,  also,  the  wicked  delight  of  the 
old  man,  profaning,  at  the  price  of  gold,  the  delicate 
flowers  of  beauty  and  j'outh.  Some  of  them  seem 
happy — like  slugs  upon  roses  ;  others  confess,  by  their 
air  of  dejection,  the  inconsolable  sadness  of  exhausted 
nature,  sinking  under  vice ;  and  all  this  v>'ith  a  coloring, 
a  spirit,  a  touch,  a  skill  truly  wonderful,  with  a  light 
suggestion  of  caricature,  arrested  in  time — for  painting 


1G6  -4  WINTER  IN  RVSSIA. 

is  a  serious  tiling,  and  a  grimace  fixed  and  unchanging 
becomes  intolerable. 

In  a  corner  of  this  picture  was  Avritten  an  odd  name,, 
of  Hungarian  orthography  and  Italian  sound :  Zicliy. 

AVIien  I  warmly  expressed  my  admiration,  Beggrow 
replied  simply :  '•  Yes,  it  is  by  Zichy ; "  taking  it  as  a 
matter  of  course  that  a  water-color  by  Zichy  should  be  a 
magnificent  thing ;  and  he  opened  a  portfolio  contain- 
ing several  sepias  by  this  young  master,  of  character  so 
varied,  so  contrasting,  that  it  would  have  been  easy  to 
atti-ibute  them  to  different  artists. 

There  was,  first,  a  scene  most  pathetic  and  distressing, 
— a  poor  family  wlio  have  lost  their  way  u]3on  the  steppe. 
At  the  foot  of  a  huge  mass  of  ice,  an  ill-fated  woman, 
exhausted  vvith  fatigue,  overpowered  by  cold,  scourged 
by  the  wind,  blinded  by  snow,  has  sought  temporary  and 
insufiicient  sheltei'.  To  that  irresistible  desire  to  sleep 
which  seizes  a  person  suft'oring  from  intense  cold,  and 
which  is  the  first  step  toward  freezing,  lias  followed 
death  itself:  the  nose  is  pinched,  the  eyelids  convulsed, 
and  the  mouth,  stiffened  in  death,  seems  to  breathe  forth 
a  frozen  sigh.  Kear  the  mother  is  stretched  out  a  little 
dead  child,  half  wrapped  in  a  ragged  covering,  andfore- 
sliorteued  in  the  dravving  with  incredible  boldness  and 
skill.  A  boy  of  thirteen  or  fourteen,  more  robust,  whose 
wai-ni  young  blood  has  been  better  able  to  resist  the 
fatal  torpor,  is  anxiously  busied  about  his  mother; 
frightened,  desperate,  with  passionate  tenderness  and 
wild  terror,  he  tries  to  awaken  her  from  this  obstinate 
slumber  which  is  to  him  so  mysterious.  You  feel  that 
lie  has  never  seen  any  person  die,  and  yet,  1)y  his  intense 
alarm,  l^y  his  secret  liorror,  it  is  evident  that  he  suspects 
the  presence  of  death.  Soon  this  adored  mother  will 
be  to  him  as  frightful  as  a  spectre ;  instead  of  a  humau 
cieature,  will  be  a  corpse ;  and  3'et  soon,  too,  the  white 
shi'oud  of  snow  will  have  covered  all. 

We  have,  next,  a  Doge's  wife,  her  Marino  Faliero  at 
her  side,  listening  dreamily  to  a  young  musician  who 


zicnr.  167 

]>lays  upon  a  dulcimer.  They  are  seated  in  a  rich 
Venetian  apartment,  opening  upon  a  balcony  with  col- 
onnettes  and  trefoils  in  the  Moorish  or  Lombard  style. 
Like  Gustave  Dorc,  Zichy  understands  and  loves  the 
mediaeval;  he  knows  the  architecture,  the  styles  of  fur- 
niture, of  armor,  of  costume,  of  decoration,  peculiar  to 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  reproduces  it  all,  not  witli  ])ain- 
ful  archaic  labor,  but  with  a  free,  careless  hand,  as  if 
his  models  were  before  his  eyes,  or  he  had  lived  famil- 
iarly among  tliem.  He  does  not  bring  out,  as  does 
Dorc,  the  grotesque  and  fantastic ;  he  represents  by 
preference  the  more  elegant  side,  still  avoiding  the 
romancsque  and  troubadour  style  of  Marchangy. 

A  third  drawing  made  a  complete  conquest  of  me. 
The  two  former  recall,  one,  the  patJietic  sentimentality 
of  Ary  Scheffer  and  Octave  Taessert ;  -the  other,  Chas- 
serau's  etchings  illustrating  Othello,  and  neither  at  all 
reseudjled  the  Florentine  Orgie.  The  one  now  before 
me  suggests  the  best,  the  most  brilliant  and  clever  of 
Gavarin's  sepias.  It  is  an  oiiicer  of  spahis,  or  African 
chasseurs,  about  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  and  receiving 
with  the  most  mai-tial  indifference  the  adieus  of  a  too 
tender  beauty  who  wee])s  and  sobs  upon  his  shoulder,  in 
an  attitude  of  grief  that  is  certainly  most  touching. 
The  chasseur,  a  Ulysses  always  on  the  point  of  depart- 
ure, and  habituated  to  the  lamentations  of  Calypsos 
left  behind  in  the  garrison  islands,  is  enduring  the 
warm  shower  of  tears,  like  rain  at  one's  back,  with  a 
dull,  patient,  tired  air,— knocking  off  with  the  nail  of 
his  little  finger  the  white  ash  formed  at  the  end  of  his 
cigarette,  and  turning  in  his  toes,  like  a  man  who  no 
longer  cares  about  being  elegant.  It  is  impossible  to 
imagine  the  wit,  the  linc.gse,  the  sparkle  of  this  little 
water-coh)r,  done  casually,  but  with  incredible  corrcct- 
*ness,  on  the  first  bit  of  drawing-paper  that  came  to  hand. 
If,  in  order  to  give  an  idea  of  a  painter  unknown  at 
Paris,  I  have  been  forced  to  seek  resemblances,  do  not 
on  this  account  think  of  copies  or  imitations.     Zichy  has 


1(58  A  WINTER  IN  liUSSIA. 

that  true  genius  which  draws  from  itself  only ;  in  the 
pathways  of  art,  he  has  never  met  those  masters  v/hom 
one  might  say  he  resembles.  Some  of  these  names, 
even,  are  unknown  to  him. 

"  How  has  it  happened,"  I  said  to  Beggrow, "  that  Zich}'' 
has  sent  nothing  to  the  expositions ;  that  we  have  seen 
no  picture  of  his  engraved ;  that  we  have  met  no  paint- 
ing or  sketch  of  his  in  any  collection  ?  Does  liussia 
guard  with  jealous  care,  for  her  exclusive  gratification, 
the  secret  of  this  talent  so  subtle,  new,  and  strange  ? " 

"Yes,"  Beggrow  said  quietly,  "Zichy  paints  a  great 
deal  for  the  court  and  for  the  city ;  none  of  his  pic- 
tures remain  very  long  in  my  shop,  and  it  is  by  an  ac- 
cident that  you  liad  found  so  many  of  theui  here  to-da}''. 
The  frames  were  not  cpiite  ready.  You  came  in  oppor- 
tunely :  for  the  Florentine  Orgie  will  be  taken  away 
this  evening." 

I  left  the  shop,  and — like  La  Fontaine,  who,  delighted 
and  surprised  on  having  latel}^  read  the  book  of  Baruch, 
went  about  asking,  "  Have  you  read  Baruch?" — I  began 
every  conversation  by  the  question,  "  Do  you  know 
Zichy?" 

"  Certainly  ! "  was  always  the  reply  ;  and  one  day, 
M.  Luoff,  director  of  the  Conservatory  of  Design,  said  to 
me,  "  If  you  desire  to  know  him  yourself,  I  can  procure 
you  the  pleasure." 

There  is  in  St.  Petersburg  a  kind  of  clul),  called  the 
Friday  Society  :  it  is  couiposed  of  artists,  and  meets,  as 
its  name  indicates,  on  Friday  of  every  week.  There  is 
no  particular  place  of  meeting,  every  member  receiving 
the  brotherhood  in  turn,  till  the  list  is  ended  and  they 
recommence  at  tlie  top. 

Shaded  lamps  stand  in  a  row  on  a  long  table,  which  is 
covered  with  drawing  materials,  stretched  paper,  pen- 
cils, pastels,  water-color  |)aleties  for  sepia  and  for  India 
ink, — everything,  in  short,  vvliich  may  be  needed  for  the 
evening's  work.  Eacli  member  of  the  club  takes  a  seat 
at  the  table,  and  is  bound  to  execute  in  the  course  of  the 


zwnT.  1G9 

evening  a  picture  of  some  kind,  in  pencil,  crayon,  or 
water-color,  which  becomes  the  property  of  the  society, 
and  is  sold,  or  disposed  of  l)y  lottery,  the  proceeds  ^oing 
to  form  a  fund  for  the  assistance  of  unfortunate  artists, 
or  those  in  a  state  of  tem))()rary  embarrassment.  Cigars 
and  cigarettes — papyros,  they  are  called  In  Russia — bris- 
tle from  the  horns  of  carved  wood  or  varnished  earth 
tliat  are  placed  between  the  desks,  and  each  man,  with- 
out interrupting  his  work,  takes  to  himself  a  cigarette 
or  an  Ilavana,  as  he  may  pi'efer,  and  is  soon,  work  and 
all,  wrapi)ed  in  a  cloud  of  smoke.  Glasses  of  tea  circu- 
late, and  st)rae  kind  of  small  pastry  ;  they  sip  tlie  scald- 
ing beverage,  and  rest  a  little  and  talk.  Those  who 
do  not  feel  themselves  sufficiently  inspired,  rise  and  go 
to  look  at  what  others  arc  doing,  often  returning  sud- 
denly to  their  seats,  as  if  stung  by  emulation,  or  inspired 
by  some  lucky  flash. 

Towards  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  light  supper  is 
served,  where  the  frankest  cordiality  ])revails.  It  is  en- 
livened by  discussions  on  art,  stories  of  travel,  ingenious 
paradoxes,  tlie  wildest  of  jokes,  and,  sometimes,  a  mim- 
icry truer  than  anything  that  is  ever  done  on  the  stage, 
— a  trick,  this,  whose  secret  artists  attain  through  their 
incessant  study  of  natvn-p.  Then  evei-ybody  goes  home 
having  done  a  good  work — in  more  senses  than  one — 
and  having  been  annised — a  I'are  thing!  It  would  be 
well  if  some  society  like  this  existed  in  Paris,  where, 
as  a  rule,  artists  seldom  meet,  and  kuovv^  one  another 
only  as  rivals. 

I  had  the  honor  of  being  admitted  into  the  Friday 
Society,  and  it  was  at  one  of  these  meetings  that  I  saw 
Zichy  for  the  lirst  time. 

"We  were  at  the  house  of  Lavazzari,  a  cosmopolite 
among  artists,  who  has  seen  everything  and  sketched 
everything.  "Water-colors — in  which  I  recognized  the 
Alhambra,  the  Parthenon,  "Venice,  the  Pylons  of  Kar- 
nak,  the  tombs  of  Lycia — covered  walls  which  were  in 
sonic  places  half  hidden  by  the  loaves  of  tropical  plants, 


170  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

growing  here,  as  in  so  many  Russian  houses,  with  the 
greatest  hixuriance. 

A  young  man  of  thirty  or  thirty-two  years  of  age, 
with  long  fair  liair  falling  in  disordered  curls,  grayish 
blue  eyes,  full  of  animation  and  intellect,  blonde, 
slightly  curling  beard,  and  harmonious,  pleasing  features, 
stood  by  a  table,  arranging  his  paper  and  brushes  and 
glass  of  water;  he  was  replying  with  a  silvery  laugh,  a 
really  boyish  langh,  to  some  pleasantry  which  a  com- 
rade had,  at  the  moment,  addressed  to  him.  This  was 
Zichy. 

On  being  presented  to  him,  I  expressed,  as  well  as  I 
was  able,  the  ardent  admiration  with  which  Iiis  Floren- 
tine Orgie,  and  the  sketches  I  had  seen  at  Beggrow's, 
had  inspired  me.  Tie  listened  with  evident  pleasure 
(for  he  could  not  doubt  my  sincerity),  mingled,  however, 
with  a  modest  surprise  which  certainly  was  not  assumed. 
He  seemed  to  say,  ''  Am  I  really  so  great  a  man  as  that  ? " 
— Not  that  Zichy  is  unaware  or  his  own  talents,  but  that 
he  does  not  attach  to  them  the  importance  that  he  ought. 
lie  believes  that  what  he  does  so  easily,  is  an  easy  thing 
to  do,  and  he  is  a  little  surprised  that  people  should  be 
enraptured  over  what  has  cost  him  only  three  or  four 
hours'  work,  all  the  time  smoking  and  talking.  The 
master-strokes  of  genius  are  done  with  ease,  when  one 
is  a  genius — and  this  he  is. 

Zichy  paid  me  the  compliment  of  improvising  a  com- 
position upon  a  subject  drawn  from  Roi  Candiule,  a 
recent  antique  of  mine,  which  has  already  had  the  hon<n* 
of  inspiring  one  of  Pradier's  statues,  and  one  of  Gerome's 
paintings.  The  moment  chosen  is  when  Nyssia,  unable 
to  endure  that  two  living  mortals  should  know  the  se- 
cret of  her  charms,  introduces  Gyges  into  the  nuptial 
chamber  and  directs  his  poignard  against  the  breast  of 
the  sleeping  king.  Under  the  sure  and  rapid  hand  of 
the  artist,  a  splendid  Gr^eco- Asiatic  interior  was  created 
as  by  enchantment.  The  Ileraclid,  with  his  athlete's 
muscles,  already  lies  overpowered  with  sleep  upon  the 


zicnr.  171 

cnsliions,  and  Nyssia,  white  and  slender  as  a  statuette 
cat  in  a  column  of  Parian  marble,  lets  fall  her  last  gar- 
ment, a  gesture  vohiptuous,  yet  rendered  terrible  by  its 
signiticance,  for  it  is  the  signal  agreed  upon  for  the 
mm'der  ;  Gyges  advances  with  the  ste]>  of  a  tiger,  ])ress- 
ing  the  cold  blade  convulsively  against  his  breast. 
The  pencil  ran  unhesitating,  as  if  it  Cfjpied  some  invisi- 
ble model. 

All  this  time  the  other  artists  were  at  work  too,  with 
an  ardor  and  rapidity  almost  inci-edible.  Sveitchkov 
was  drawing,  in  colored  crayon,  a  horse,  resting  his  head 
sociably  ui)on  his  companion's  shoulder.  Like  Horace 
Vernet,  like  Alfred  de  Dreux,  like  Achille  Giroux, 
Svertchkov  excels  in  representing  the  play  of  light  upon 
the  satiny  skin  of  the  thorough-bred  horse ;  he  under- 
stands the  steely  springs  of  their  sinewy  legs  ;  he  knows 
how  to  interlace  the  veins  upon  the  smoking  neck,  and 
to  make  the  fire  flash  from  their  eyes:  but  he  has  a 
weakness  for  the  little  Ukraine  horse,  dishevelled,  shaggy, 
nidcempt,  the  poor  beast  of  the  mnjik;  him  he  jniints, 
harnessed  to  the  rosposnik,  the  telega,  or  the  sledge, 
pulling,  in  the  ice  or  in  the  snow,  through  pine  woods 
whose  branches  are  bent  nnder  their  wintry  load. 
You  feel  how  he  loves  these  bravo  animals,  so  sober, 
so  patient,  so  courageous,  so  inured  to  fatigue ;  he  is  the 
Sterne  of  these  kind  creatures,  and  tliat  page,  in  the 
Sentimental  Journey,  upon  the  donkey,  eating  a  leaf  of 
artichoke,  is  not  more  pathetic  than  some  of  his  sketches. 
Here  too  I  found,  ])usied  with  the  foaming  waters  of  a 
little  cascade,  my  old  friend  Pharamond  Blanchard, 
whom  I  have  never  chanced  to  meet  in  Paris,  but  with 
whom  I  have  passed  many  an  liour  at  Madi'id,  at 
Smyrna,  and  at  Constantinople ;  and  now  I  nmst 
needs  come  to  St.  Petersburg  to  see  him  again  after 
six  years. 

Popaf,  a  Ilussian  Tcniers,  was  sketching  with  charm- 
ing simplicity  a  scene  of  peasants  drinking  their  tea; 
Lavazzari  was  guiding  an  aniba  drawn  by  oxen  through 


172  A  MU^TTER  m  RUSSIA. 

the  narrow  streets  of  an  oriental  city ;  while  Charlemag^ne, 
whose  correct  and  faithful  views  of  St.  Petersburg  are 
so  much  admired  iu  Daziaro's  window,  was  adding,  np- 
on  his  own  authority,  a  new  island  to  Lake  Maggiore,  and 
covei'ing  it  with  fairy  structures  enough  to  ruin  tlie 
Boi-romco  princes,  notwithstanding  all  their  wealtli. 
Farther  on,  Lwoff,  the  Director  of  the  Conservatory  of 
Design,  was  lighthig  up  with  warm  sunshine  the  public 
square  of  Tiflis ;  Pj-ince  Maxintoff  was  launching  at 
full  gallop  a  detachment  of  firemen,  before  whom 
droschkys  fled  away  in  all  haste,  hugging  the  wall  with 
their  wheels ;  an  Italian,  Premazzi, — who  has  had  the 
skill  to  give  in  warui  and  transparent  water-colors 
all  the  charm  of  a  Venetian  landscape  to  the  quay 
of  tlie  Admiralty, — to  make  a  picture  from  the 
canal  of  Fontanka  which  Canaletto  or  Guardi  would 
have  acknowledged, — to  render  witli  a  truly  orien- 
tal magic  of  coloring  the  Byzantine  splendors  of  the 
Kremlin  and  its  motley,  pagoda-like  churches, — was 
rounding  above  its  elegant  columns  the  porch  of  a  con- 
vent, its  white  fa9adG  relieved  against  the  blue  surface 
of  a  lake  ;  Iloch,  who  was  giving  the  finishing-touches 
to  a  woman's  head,  seemed  to  me  to  mingle  with  the 
pure  Roman  type,  beloved  of  Leopold  Robert,  something 
of  Winterhalter's  peculiar  grace  ;  and  Riihl,  with  a  pinch 
of  plumbago  and  a  flock  of  cotton-wool  was  sketching  va- 
pory Gudius  and  Aivasovkys, — Riihl, who,  after  supper, 
can  be,  by  turns,  for  his  friends'  anmsement,  Macaluso 
or  Henri  Mommier, — unless,  running  his  agile  fingers 
over  the  keys  of  the  piano,  he  will  prefer  to  play  the 
last  opera,  or  to  improvise  for  us  a  new  one. 

Ill  my  turn  I  was  forced  to  do  my  share,  for,  as  a 
rule,  no  profane  presence  can  be  permitted  at  the  club, 
witii  only  the  one  exception  of  M.  Mussard,  who,  for 
the  sake  of  his  exquisite  taste,  his  wit,  and  his  attain- 
ments, is  excused  from  work  of  any  kind,  on  express  con- 
dition that  he  shall  talk  !  A  crayon-head,  made  to  pass 
for  an  Ophelia,  by  the  aid  of  some  flowers  and  bits  of 


ZICHY.  173 

Btraw  ill  the  liair,  ^vas  kiiidl}'  accepted  as  morceau  de 
recept'ion ^  and  in  the  Friday  cfeiiacuhi  they  were  2i;ood 
enoui^li  to  treat  uie  as  not  a  Philistine;  at  every  meet- 
ing, I  liad  my  desk  like  the  rest,  and  my  small  efforts 
were  added  to  the  common  portfolio  of  the  society. 

Meanwhile  Zichy  had  washed  in  the  entire  draw- 
in  sj,  and  was  preparing  to  add  that  play  of  light  and 
shade  in  which  he  is  so  skilfnl,  when  supper  was  an- 
nounced, wherein  a  dish  of  macaroni,  juicy,  and  of  pec- 
nliarbnt  unexceptionable  flavor,  held  an  honorable  place. 
The  charming  profile  of  an  Italian  girl  hanging  upon  the 
wall  may  perhaps  account  for  the  perfection  of  this 
classic  dish. 

The  following  day  I  received  a  note  from  Zichy,  in 
which  he  informed  me  that, having  re-read  i?Oi  Candaule, 
he  had  torn  his  sk'etch  into  a  thousand  fragments — the 
barbarian!  the  Yandal  ! — lie  also  invited  me  to  dine 
with  him,  that  he  might  show  me,  while  waiting  for 
the  S(^up  to  be  served,  things  more  worthy  of  my  notice, 
and  perhaps  justifying  the  good  opinion  I  had  formed  of 
hira.  The  note  was  accompanied  by  a  little  plan  from 
his  own  hand,  destined  to  aid  me  in  finding  his  house,  a 
precaution  by  no  means  superfluous,  considering  my 
perfect  ignoi-ance  of  the  Tiussian  language.  By  aid  of 
his  })lan,  and  with  the  four  phrases  that  form  the  staple 
of  the  traveller's  conversation  with  the  isvochtchik:  pre- 
wna  (straight  ahead),  lui  prai'a  (to  the  right),  na  leva 
(to  the  left),  stoi  (stop), — I  arrived  safely  at  tlie  bridge  of 
Vosnesensky,  not  far  from  the  painter's  house. 

Although  in  my  travels  I  have  always  made  reticence 
upon  some  points  a  duty,  I  shall  take  the  reader  with 
me  in  paying  this  visit  to  Zichy,  without  feeling  that 
I  abuse,  in  so  doiiig,  the  hospitality  offered  me  ;  one 
onght,  it  is  true,  to  stop  before  the  threshold  of  domes- 
tic life, — but  it  may  be  permitted  to  open,  part  Avay, 
the  door  of  the  studio.  Zichy  will  pardon  me  for  bring- 
ing to  see  him  a  few  visitors  who  have  not  been  formally 
introduced. 


174:  A  WINTER  m  EUSSIA. 

A  suite  of  rooms  in  Russia  always  begins  witTi  a  sort 
of  cloak-room,  where  the  guest  leaves  his  pelisse  in 
charge  of  a  servant,  who  hangs  it  up,  and  the  over- 
shoes are  removed  also,  as  in  the  east  they  lay  aside  their 
slippers  before  entering  the  mosque.  That  foreground  of 
old  shoes  which  so  much  surpi'ised  the  Parisian  eye  in 
Gerome's  picture,  the  Prayer  of  the  Arnauts,  is  to  be 
seen  here  in  every  ante-room,  if  the  master  of  the  house 
be  at  all  a  person  of  consequence,  a  celebrity,  or  a  fav- 
orite ;  which  is  to  say,  there  is  always  an  abundant  sup- 
ply of  shoemakers'  wares  in  the  cloak-room  at  Zichy's. 
However,  on  this  day,  there  was  neither  overshoe,  nor 
furred  boot,  nor  felt  gaiter  in  position  under  the  rack; 
Zichy  had  denied  himself  to  other  guests,  that  our  con- 
versation might  be  quite  uninterrupted. 

I  traversed,  iirst,  a  drawing-room  of  considerable  size, 
one  wall  of  which  was  adorned  with  a  superb  collection 
of  arms  and  equipments  used  in  hunting.  There  were 
guns,  carbines,  knives,  game-bags,  powder-horns, — sus- 
pended from  antlers,  and  grouped  with  skins  of  lynx, 
wolf,  and  fox,  trophies  or  models.  It  would  have  seemed 
the  abode  of  some  famous  hunter,  at  least  of  some 
sportsman,  had  not  ai)icture  of  a  prophet  in  a  cave,  the 
heavy  shadows  suggesting  Pembrandt,  and  proof  engrav- 
ings of  the  Plemi-cycle  of  Paul  Delaroche,  and  the 
Smala  of  Horace  Yernet,  together  with  some  empty 
frames  awaiting  pictures,  attested  that  this  was  the  home 
of  an  artist. 

Vases  containing  hothouse  plants  were  arranged 
along  the  window,  keeping  alive  the  tradition  of  green, 
a  color  for  eight  months  lost  in  Russia,  and  which  a 
painter,  more  than  any  other  man,  has  need  to  pre- 
sei've. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  the  great  round  table 
of  the  Friday  Club. 

The  next  room  was  much  smaller.  Two  sides  of  it  were 
lined  with  divans,  which  bent  away  from  each  wall  at  an 
oblique  angle  at  the  back  of  the  room,  till  they  were 


ZICU7.  175 

met  by  one  of  those  elegant  carved -screens,  like  that  of 
a  choir  or  of  a  convent  parlor,  real  masterpieces  of 
Knssian  carpentry,  in  which  the  wood  is  bent  and  twisted 
like  cast-iron,  into  leaves  and  volutes  and  trellis- work, 
witli  colonnettes,  trefoils,  arabesques,  and  caprices  of  every 
description;  ivies  and  other  climbing  plants,  springing 
from,  jar  dim  erci^^  hung  their  natural  foliage  among  the 
carved  leafage  of  the  screen,  producing  the  most  charm- 
ing effect  imaginable. 

With  these  elegant  screens,  cut  in  open-work,  like  a 
fish-knife  or  like  paper  lace,  one  may  be  partially  iso- 
lated, in  the  centre  or  the  corner  of  a  drawing-room  ; 
you  have  at  will  a  bedroom,  a  boudoir,  a  "  retreat,"  as 
the  Gothic  nations  express  it ;  you  are  secluded,  yet  not 
solitary,  and  are  still  bathed  in  the  general  atmosphere 
of  the  apartment. 

Upon  consoles  formed  by  salient  parts  of  the  carving, 
stood  two  of  PoUet's  graceful  statuettes.  The  Morn- 
ing Star,  and  Niglit,  modelled  in  stcariue  ;  and  through 
the  lattice-work  were  visible  characteristic  costumes 
of  Tchcrgcsses,  Lcsghines,  Circassians,  and  Cossacks, 
which,  hanging  against  the  wall  behind,  and  quite  in 
shadow,  formed  by  their  varied  coloring  a  warm,  rich 
background,  against  w^hich  stood  out  clear  and  light,  the 
line  carvings  of  the  screen. 

Upon  the  walls  I  noticed,  on  one  side,  The  Defeat 
of  the  Huns  and  The  Destruction  of  Jerusalem,  magnifi- 
cent German  engravings  after  Kaulbach's  well-known 
frescos,  and  l)eneath,  a  row  of  medallions  in  pastel,  por- 
traits of  the  Friday  Club,  done  by  Zichy  himself;  on  the 
otlicr,  the  Assassination  of  tlie  Duke  of  Guise,  by  Paul 
Delaroche,  some  bits  of  studies,  some  casts,  and  various 
artistic  trifics. 

In  the  last  room  of  the  suite,  the  one  in  which  Zichy 
received  me,  my  eye  was  caught,  first  of  all,  by  a  suit 
of  armor  for  a  child,  of  the  sixtccntli  century,  standing 
upon  the  mantel-piece  ii;  the  place  wliicli  the  Philistine  is 
wont  to  adorn  with  a  clock.     In  the  same  taste,  the  mir- 


176  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ror  was  replaced  to  advantage  bj  a  multifarious  array  of 
weapons.  These  were  arms  of  every  variety:  swords  of 
Toledo  workmanship,  the  blue  blades  of  Damascus,  the 
Jllssahs  of  Xabyle,  the  yataghan,  the  kriss,  daggers,  guns 
Avith  long  barrels  ornamented  with  niello- work  and  stocks 
incrusted  with  turquoises  and  coral.  A  second  trophy 
composed  of  bows,  quivers,  pistols,  and  fowling-pieces, 
Georgian  casques  with  gorgets  of  chain-work,  steel 
nargJiilehs  from  Khorassian,  Persian  musket-rests,  African 
sagai,  and  those  thousand  objects  that  the  lover  of 
the  picturesque  delights  to  gather,  covered  one  entire 
wall.  Zichy  is  a  frequenter  of  the  Tchoukine-Bvor  of 
St.  Petersburg  and  of  Moscow ;  at  Constantinople,  he 
would  never  be  able  to  get  away  from  the  bazaar  of 
weapons  ;  he  has  a  passion  for  them,  he  hunts  them  out, 
buys  them,  barters  for  tliem,  obtains  them  in  exchange  for 
his  own  sketches  ;  and  wherever  a  strange,  fierce,  savage 
instrument  of  destruction  is  unearthed,  it  is  almost  sure 
to  find  its  way  at  last  into  his  possession.  In  exhibiting 
all  this  hric-cl-hmG,  Zichy  might  say  with  Kembraudt : 
"  These  are  my  antiques." 

A  second  side  of  the  room  is  occupied  by  a  library, 
the  books  in  many  languages  testifying  to  the  good 
taste  and  learning  of  the  artist,  who  reads  in  the  origi- 
nal the  best  works  in  nearly  all  European  literatures. 
The  other  tv.-o  walls  are  pierced  by  windows,  for  the 
room  makes  the  corner  of  the  house ;  between  the  win- 
dows are  various  small  objects,  not  important  to  de- 
scribe. 

But,  does  my  reader  say,  a  little  wearied,  perhaps,  by 
these  details,  "  You  proniised  to  show  us  Zichy's  studio, 
and  all  that  you  have  done  is  to  give  an  inventory  of 
the  contents  of  three  rooms  more  or  less  picturesquely 
furnished."  It  is  no  fault  of  mine,  but  there  is  no  stu- 
dio; neither  Zichy,  nor  any  other  artist  in  St.  Peters- 
buro-  has  one.  No  provision  has  ever  been  made  for 
painters  in  this  city,tiie  "  Athens  of  the  North,"  though 
it  is;  no  landlord  "has  ever  taken  the  matter  intocousid- 


ZICHY.  177 

eration  ;  and  so  art  finds  lodging  where  it  can,  and 
seeks,  often  with  I'ruitless  labor,  in  suites  of  rooms 
planned  solely  for  domestic  life,  a  place  for  an  easel  and 
a  favorable  light;  and  yet  neither  space  nor  material 
was  lacking. 

Zichy  was  at  work  at  a  desk,  on  the  corner  of  a  tal)le 
near  a  window,  profiting  assiduously  by  tiie  last  pallid 
rays  of  daylight.  lie  was  finishing  a  large  drawing  in 
India  ink,  destined  to  be  engraved.  It  was  a  Werther 
at  the  supreme  moment  of  the  suicide.  The  virtuous 
lover  of  Charlotte,  having  condenmed  his  love  as  hope- 
less and  guilty,  is  making  ready  to  execute  his  own  sen- 
tence against  himself.  Upon  a  table  covered  with 
cloth,  a  sort  of  tribunal, — before  which  has  been  seated, 
to  deliberate  upon  his  own  case,  Werther,  the  judge  of 
Werther, — burns  a  failing  lamp,  witness  of  this  noctur- 
nal debate.  The  artist  represents  Werther  standing, 
like  a  magistrate  rendering  a  decision,  and,  while  his  lips 
close,  with  corners  alittle  drawn  down,  after  pronouncing 
the  sentence,  his  hand,  delicate  as  that  of  a  dreamer  or 
an  idler,  fumbles  among  his  papers  for  the  handle  of  the 
pistol. 

The  head,  lighted  from  below  by  the  lamp  npon  the 
table,  has  all  the  scornful  serenity  which  a  man  should 
have  who  is  sure  of  escape  from  moral  anguish,  and  who 
ali-eady  looks  at  life  from  the  other  side.  Eveiybody 
knows  how  little  aid  is  given  to  tlie  expression  of  tragic 
feeling  by  the  powder  and  the  curled  hair  and  the 
styles  of  dress  of  1789;  and  yet  Zichy  has  been  able  to 
make  of  Werther,  in  spite  of  the  vignettes  of  the  time, 
and  even  the  famous  blue  coat,  an  ideal  creation,  poetic 
and  full  of  character.  It  has  a  vigor  worthy  of  Rem- 
brandt ;  the  light,  coming  from  beneath,  strikes  unex- 
pectedly upon  all  objects,  bringing  them  out  in  a 
strange,  weird  fashion  ;  and  behind  Charlotte's  lover 
rises  to  the  very  ceiling  a  shadow,  magnified  into  a 
phantom.  The  spectre  seems  to  stand  ready  to  take  the 
place  of  the  man,  who  is  about  to  disappear.     It  is  not 


178  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

easy  to  iniap^ine  the  strength  of  color  obtained  in  this 
drawing  in  India  ink,  which  is  usually  so  cold. 

As  1  have  said,  this  artist  has  a  multiform  nature ; 
you  believe  you  understand  him,  you  assign  to  him  a 
rank,  a  manner  and  style  characteristic,  as  you  suppose; 
suddenly  he  places  before  you  a  new  work  which  quite 
disconcerts  you,  and  renders  your  former  estimate  incom- 
plete. Who  would  have  expected  after  this  Wertber  to 
see  three  large  water-colors  of  still  life,  representing  the 
very  same  fox,  wolf,  and  lynx  whose  skins  hang  in  his 
drawing-room,  and  which  he  killed  with  his  own  hand  ? 
Neither  Jadin,  nor  Barye,  nor  Delacroix  could  have 
done  better.  This  talent  alone  would  be  enough  to  make 
its  possessor  famous  in  Paris,  and  this  is  but  one  of  the 
least  with  which  Zichy  is  endowed ;  there  is  a  truthful- 
ness of  tone,  a  skill  in  the  anatomical  drawing,  a  free 
touch,  a  fortunate  rendering,  a  comprehension  of  each 
animal's  nature,  of  which  one  can  have  no  idea.  Each 
beast  keeps  his  own  individual  characteristics  perfectly 
in  death.  The  fox,  with  half-shut  eyes,  his  nose  sharper 
than  usual  and  making  tine  wrinkles  at  the  corners  of 
his  mouth,  seems  meditating  some  last  stratagem,  which 
has,  as  it  seems,  proved  unsuccessful.  The  wolf  shows 
his  fangs  to  their  very  roots,  as  if  he  liad  sought  to  bite 
the  ball  which  went  through  him.  The  lynx  is  sublime 
with  powerless  ferocity  and  rage  ;  his  v\'ide,  gaping  jaws 
open  with  a  frightful  grimace,  stretched  apart  up  to 
the  very  sockets  of  the  ghizing  eyes,  and  forming  skinny 
wrinkles  like  those  which  are  made  by  a  sardonic  laugh; 
he  is  like  some  savage  hero  killed  by  the  Avhite  man's 
treachery  with  an  unknown  weapon,  and  flinging  out 
his  scorn  at  his  destroyer,  even  in  the  last  agony  of 
death. 

Each  one  of  these  water-colors  was  executed  in  a 
single  day.  Tlie  ra})id  progi-css  of  decay  required  this 
cclei'ity  of  work  ;  but  for  all  that,  the  artist  has  not  sac- 
riliced  or  falsified  anything.  Ilis  eye  is  so  sure,  his 
hand  so  certain,  that  every  stroke  tells. 


ZIUHT.  179 

If  now  you  propose  to  class  Zicliy  amoiii>-  jiainters  of 
animals,  you  will  be  strangely  in  eiTor;  he  is  quite  as 
nnich  an  historical  painter ;  look  at  these  magniiicent 
pen-and-ink  drawings,  representing  ancient  Muscovite 
battles,  and  the  establishment  of  Christianity  in  Rnssia, 
works  of  his  youth,  in  which  the  influence  of  his  German 
master,  Waldmuller,  may  be  distinctly  observed.  If 
you  were  told  that  these  designs,  so  fine  in  their  style, 
of  so  heroic  cast,  of  sucli  lavish  invention,  were  Kaul- 
bach's,  you  would  be  quite  ready  to  believe  it.  I  doubt 
even  whetlier  Kanlbach  would  have  given  all  these 
curious  barbaric  details  to  the  costumes  of  his  Tartar 
warriors,  for  here  the  lack  of  historic  documents  has 
left  the  utmost  latitude  to  the  fancy  of  the  painter. 
These  drawings  are  so  accurate,  and  so  highly  finished, 
that  they  only  need  to  be  enlarged  b}'  measurement  to 
become  admirable  cartoons,  and  to  be  spread  out  as 
frescos  upon  the  walls  of  some  palace  or  public  build- 
ing. 

And  now  what  will  you  say,  wlien  to  these  severe 
compositions  which,  exposed  in  Gonpil's  window,  en- 
graved like  the  works  of  Cornelius  or  Overbeck,  would 
seem  to  emanate  from  tlie  serious  school  of  Diisseldorf, 
succeeds  some  light  fantasy,  some  impossible  dream  of 
love,  flying  away  into  the  blue,  borne  by  a  chimfera 
with  black,  waving  hair, — drawn  with  a  pencil  as  delicate, 
as  aerial  as  that  of  Vidal, — a  rosy  cloud  shaped  in  the 
azure  by  the  caprice  of  the  libertine  winds  !  Ah  !  you 
exclaim,  our  young  Russian  is  a  modern  Watteau,  a 
Boucher  with  English  graces,  and  all  the  elegance  of 
a  Book  of  ]3eanty ;  he  shall  be  engraved  by  the  Robin- 
sons or  the  Findens.  And  again  your  judgment  is  rasli ; 
for  Zichy,  with  his  fresh,  l)oyish  laugli,  will  draw  from 
his  port-folio  and  lay  before  you  a  sombre  sepia,  impro- 
vised one  evening  by  lamplight,  -which  is  equal  in 
gloomy  force  to  the  most  powerful  and  dramatic  mas- 
ters. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  a  cemetery  ;  it  is  night.     Feeble 


180  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

rays  of  moonlight  pierce  tbrongli  ]:)anks  of  clouds  heavy 
witli  rain.  Black  wooden  crosses,  funereal  monuments, 
columns  truncated,  or  surmounted  by  an  urn  shi-ouded 
in  crape,  figures  representing  the  Genius  of  Death 
treading  out  the  torch  of  life,  all  the  doleful  forms  of 
sepulchral  architecture  detach  their  sombre  outlines 
from  an  horizon  filled  with  mystei-ious  terrors. 

In  the  foreground,  where  the  earth  has  been  thrown 
up,  two  picks  are  vibrating,  struck  into  the  turf,  and  a 
hideous  trio  appear,  busy — like  the  witches  in  Macbeth 
— at  a  deed  without  a  name.  Plunderers  of  church- 
yards, hyenas  in  human  form, — who  ritie  graves  to 
steal  from  death  its  last  treasures, — the  woman's  gold 
ring,  the  silver  rattle  of  the  child,  the  lover's  medallion, 
the  reliquary  of  the  devout, — they  have  disinterred  a 
rich  coffin,  whose  covering  of  black  velvet  with  silver 
trimmings  is  pushed  aside,  showing  the  figure  of  a 
young  woman,  the  head  lying  on  a  pillow  of  lace. 
Through  the  parted  shroud  you  see  the  chin  resting 
on  the  breast,  in  one  of  those  meditations  upon  eternity 
wliich  employ  the  leisure  of  the  tomb,  and  one  arm  ly- 
ing across  the  heart  whose  beating  has  ceased  forever, 
and  at  which  the  worm  already  gn.aws  in  secret.  One 
of  the  robl)ers, — the  face  brutal,  the  expression  that  of 
a  galley-slave,  on  his  head  a  filthy  cap, — holds  a  bit  of 
candle  which  he  shelters  with  his  hand  against  the  night- 
wind.  The  flickerhig  light  falls  wan  and  livid  upon  the 
pallor  of  the  dead  face.  Another  bandit,  standing  half 
in  the  grave,  and  whose  ferocious  features  have  the 
effect  of  a  wild  boar  among  swine,  is  lifting  in  his  paw 
the  slender  liand,  white  as  wax,  which  the  coq^se  aban- 
dons to  him  with  s]iectral  indifference.  He  plucks  from 
the  ring-finger,  rudely  separated  from  the  rest, — l)roken, 
perhaps,  under  this  sacrilegious  handling, — a  ring  of 
value  :  the  wedding-ring,  no  doubt.  A  third  villain, 
on  picket-duty  upon  the  mound  of  a  new-made  grave, 
listens,  making  an  car-trumpet  of  his  cap,  to  the  far-off 
baying  of  a  dog,  disturbed  by  the  movements  of  the 


ZICIIY,  181 

band,  or  the  scarcely  audible  step  of  the  watchman  go- 
ing his  rounds.  A  spasm  of  the  most  ignoble  fear  con- 
tracts his  face  black  with  shadows,  and  his  baggy 
trousers,  moist  with  dew,  heavy  with  the  crass  earth  of 
the  cemetery,  betray  limbs  and  articulations  like  the 
monkey's. 

Romantic  horror  can  go  no  further.  This  di-avv'ing 
which  I  thus  extol  shall  be  seen  by  all  Paris ;  it  is  now 
my  own  ;  Zichy  has  done  me  the  honor  to  ]Dresent  it  to 
me ;  I  esteem  it  one  of  his  greatest  works  and  a  work 
of  the  greatest  genius.  In  looking  at  it,  one  is  re- 
minded of  the  Lazarus  of  Rembrandt,  of  tlie  Suicide 
of  Descamps,  of  the  Hamlet  and  the  Grave-diggers  of 
Eugene  Delacroix ;  nor  does  it  suffer  by  the  couij)ari- 
son.  What  magic  of  light  and  shade, — what  immense 
effect  produced  by  means  so  simple  !  In  the  foreground. 
a  little  red  sepia;  in  the  distance,  a  few  shades  of  In- 
dia ink  !  The  richest  palette  could  not  give  more  won- 
drous results ! 

To  this  frightful  scene,  which  looks  at  first  sight  like 
a  banquet  of  ghouls,  tlie  artist  offers,  by  way  of  con- 
trast, a  Baccliante  surprised  by  a  Satyr ;  so  pure  in 
style,  so  classic,  that  you  ask  yourself  from  what  in- 
taglio, from  what  cameo,  from  what  Pompeian  fresco, 
from  what  Grecian  vase  of  the  Studii,  this  beautiful 
group  is  borrowed  ? 

From  antiquity  we  come  down  at  once  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  mediiieval  period,  with  a  composition  en- 
titled "Tlie  Jewish  Martyrs," — a  work  of  great  value, 
wherein  Zichy  lias  depicted,  in  a  manner  as  picturesque 
as  it  is  profound,  the  two-fold  persecution,  political  and 
i"cligious,  which,  under  pretext  of  avenging  the  death 
of  a  God,  forever  whetted  its  sword  against  tlie  unhappy 
nation  of  Israel. 

In  the  depths  of  a  cellar,  or  rather,  perhaps,  of  a 
subterranean  back-shop, — an  insuflicicnt  asylum,  a  pre- 
carious hiding-})lacc, — is  gathered  a  family  of  -lews,  the 
very  cmbudiment  of  desohition  and  terror.     The  solid 


183  4  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

doors  of  this  vault  have  given  way,  in  spite  of  their 
bolts  and  bars  and  locks,  under  the  pressure  from  with- 
out, and,  torn  from  their  hinges,  have  fallen  in  upon 
the  steps.  A  flood  of  light  penetrates  this  mysterious 
retreat,  and  reveals  all  its  secrets.  At  the  head  of  the 
stairs  are  seen,  appearing  with  brilliant  refulgence, 
powers  spiritual  and  temporal ;  the  cross  and  the  sword 
shine  out  in  the  midst  of  the  sudden  light  before  the 
dazzled  eyes  of  the  poor  Jews,  forced  in  their  last  re- 
treat. Amid  the  tumultuous  ingress  of  the  soldiers, 
the  procession  of  monks  advances, — gently  inexorable, 
tranquilly  fanatic,  implacable  as  a  dogma.  The  tem- 
poral power,  the  seigneur,  the  feudal  baron,  lias  lent  to 
the  church  the  means  at  his  disposal ;  he  has  delivered 
over  the  body ;  the  Inquisition  shall  now  take  possession 
of  the  soul.  Here  he  stands,  proud  and  scornful  in  his 
^ourj)oint  stiff  as  a  cuirass;  a  striking  personification 
of  the  mediaeval  time.  That  monk  with  his  broad, 
square  face, — notwithstanding  an  emhoyvpoint  worthy 
of  Friar  John  of  the  Eutommeurs, — has  an  air  of  irre- 
sistible authority,  and  bears,  like  a  diadem,  the  crown 
of  his  tonsure  ;  one  feels  that  he  is  the  i-epresentative 
of  a  grand  Something.  Behind  him,  the  flat  face  of  a 
beadle,  crushed  by  the  fist  of  triviality,  leans  forward 
and  regards  with  a  rude  gaze  of  stupid  hate  and  curi- 
osity, this  frail  human  covey  caught  in  the  nest  and 
palpitating  like  doves  in  the  talons  of  a  vulture.  This 
man,  without  being  more  wicked  than  anybody  else, 
will  not  fail  to  witness  the  auto-da-fe  ;  and  how  it  will 
make  him  laugh  when  he  sees  the  scorched  flesh  shrivel 
in  the  flame  !  But  the  truly  frightful  figure  in  the  pic- 
ture, the  one  concentrating  in  himself  its  idea,  is  a 
monkish  spectre,  a  frock  like  a  shroud,  a  cov.d  which, 
like  the  mouth  of  a  Gothic  gargoyle,  swallows  up  tlie 
emaciated,  flesbless  head,  livid  even  in  the  shadow,  and 
as  terrible  as  that  of  tlie  monk  in  the  St.  Basil  of  the 
elder  Ilcrrera.  A  light  like  the  glitter  of  a  vulture's 
beak  reveals  his  thin,  bony  nose.     Tawny,  phosphores- 


zrciiY.  183 

cent  jjlcams  shine  va<T;ncly  uiulcr  the  cowl,  indicating 
the  ej^e,  wherein  all  the  life  of  this  dead  face  has  taken 
refuse.  From  this  living  death's-head,  covered  with 
skiii^  where  coldly  seethe  so  many  hot  passions,  comes 
ihe  leading  thought  which  directs  alL 

The  father  of  the  family,  a  stately  Jew,  whose  grand 
oriental  features  recall  the  Okl  Testament  prophets, 
seeing  all  hope  lost,  has  risen  to  his  full  height;  he  will 
degrade  himself  by  no  useless  falsehood,  and  his  half- 
oi)ened  cymar  shows  upon  his  breast  the  phylacteries, 
whereon  are  written  in  Hebrew  characters  verses  from 
the  Old  Testament,  and  sentences  from  the  Talmud, 
lie  will  confess  his  faith,  the  old  faith  of  Abraham  and 
Jacob,  and, — martyr  without  the  crown, — he  will  die 
ignouiiniously  for  Jehovah, — who  is,  too,  his  persecutors' 
(Jod  as  well  as  his  own.  Ilis  wife,  once  beautiful  as 
liachel,  but  whose  noble  features  have  grown  withered, 
yet  not  ugly,  amid  terrors  and  humiliations,  throws  her- 
self back,  clasping  her  hands  and  closing  her  eyes,  as  if 
to  shut  out  the  frightful  reality  ;  upon  her  knees  lies 
her  little  grandson,  asleep  in  the  midst  of  this  tumult 
with  the  peaceful  sleep  of  childhood  ;  a  nursling,  beau- 
tiful as  the  Infant  Jesus  in  his  manger.  The  lovely 
young  mother  lies  upon  the  ground  almost  fainting, 
her  hair  dishevelled,  her  head  sinking  upon  her  breast, 
her  arms  lifeless,  without  strength  or  thought  or  will, — 
mad  with  terror.  Tier  pure  Ilebraic;  typo  makes  real 
one's  dreams  of  the  Rebecca  of  Ivai'hoe. 

In  tlu^  foreground,  in  an  attitude  of  the  boldest  fore- 
shortening, a  boy  i-olls  upon  the  ground,  overi)owercd 
with  fear.  Just  behind  creeps  the  grandfather,  in  whom 
are  centred  all  the  sordid  instincts  of  the  race  ;  with 
his  old  trembling  hands  and  his  bent  body  he  tries  to 
protect  the  vessels  of  gold  and  silver  which  Israel  never 
forgets  to  bring  out  of  Egypt ;  at  this  supreme  moment 
he  has  but  a  single  thought :  to  save  the  strong-box. 

The  execution  of  this  drawing  is  both  broad  and 
finely   finished ;    the  stump    and    the    crayon    arc    the 


ISl  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

means  employed.  To  strong,  silvery  lights  are  opposed 
shadows  as  velvety  as  those  of  the  best  English  engrav- 
ings. The  Jewish  Martyrs  will  itself  be  magniiicent  as 
an  engraving,  and  such  is,  no  doubt,  its  destination. 

If  Meissonier  painted  in  water-colors  he  would  use 
them  as  Zichy  has  done  in  a  picture  of  his,  representing 
^lans(iuenet.  The  old  soldier  is  seated  at  a  table,  on 
which  he  has  placed  his  helmet  beside  a  pot  of  beer 
and  a  large  mug;  he  has  been  drinking,  and  now  wipes 
his  long  gray  mustaches  and  twists  them  to  a  point. 
The  picture  is  about  large  enough  for  one  of  Frederick 
the  Great's  snuff-boxes  ;  but  do  not  look  for  the  minute, 
patient  finish  of  the  miniature ;  all  is  done  with  a  firm, 
free  tou(;li.  The  hand  that  twists  the  mustache  is  a 
wonderful  bit  of  work  :  muscles,  bones,  veins,  nerves, 
even  to  the  rough,  sunburnt  skin  of  the  soldier, — all  is 
there.  The  cuirass  deceives  your  eye  with  its  metallic 
lustre,  and  on  the  leather,  defaced  by  long  use,  the  rub- 
bing of  the  steel  has  left  its  bluish  trace.  In  the 
veteran's  eyes,  scarcely  as  large  as  the  head  of  a  pin, 
the  luminous  speck,  the  pupil,  the  iris,  are  all  to  h^ 
discerned :  no  detail  of  his  jovial  visage,  reddened  b)'' 
sun  and  wind,  is  omitted  or  sacrificed.  The  micro- 
scopic face  has  the  relief  and  the  strength  of  an  oil 
painting  the  size  of  life,  and  when  you  have  looked  at  il 
for  a  few  minutes,  you  know  the  man's  character  bj^  heart. 
lie  is  passionate,  but  a  good  boon  companion,  with  a 
little  knavery  about  him,  very  much  addicted  to  liquor, 
and  a  great  forager.  Some  enemies  he  has  killed,  no 
doubt ;  but  what  an  Achilles  of  the  poultry -yard  is 
this, — how  many  times  his  rapier  has  served  as  a  spit ! 

No  one  resembles  Meissonier  less  than  does  Eugc-ne 
Lami ;  Zichy  reproduces  both  equally  well,  and,  which 
is  singular,  has  seen  nothing  by  either  of  them.  The 
flexible  character  of  his  own  genius  and  the  exigencies 
of  the  subject  alone  lead  him  to  find  these  different 
modes  of  expression.  His  sketches  for  pictures  repre- 
senting scenes  of  coronation  are  marvels  of  brilliancy, 


zicnr.  185 

grace,  and  aristocratic  elegance.  No  painter  of  liigli 
life  has  ever  rendered  with  more  splendor  of  effect,  the 
pj-ocession,  the  ceremonial,  the  gala;  the  pencil  of  the 
artist  seems  to  sparkle  when  he  represents  the  sparkling 
tunndt  of  fetes ;  it  assumes  dignity  when  he  has  to 
])aint  interiors  of  Byzantine  churches,  with  their  gold 
mosaics  and  velvet  drapery,  against  which  august  and 
consecrated  heads  are  thrown  into  relief,  like  statues  of 
saints. 

This  sketch  of  a  state  performance  in  tlie  Court 
Theatre  at  Moscow,  is  a  wonderfully  adroit  instance  of 
getting  round  an  impossibility.  The  view  is  taken  from 
Ihe  balcony,  and  the  curved  lines  of  the  galleries  rise, 
one  above  another,  crowded  Avith  women  bestarred  with 
diamonds,  and  high  dignitaries  covered  with  orders  and 
crosses;  sj^ocks  of  white  and  yellow  spangle  the  Hat 
color,  and  make  a  scintillation  of  gold  and  precior.s 
stones  that  is  fairly  dazzling.  Here  and  there,  certain' 
persons  of  historical  or  otlicial  importance  are  indicated, 
the  likenesses  being  unmistakable,  and  all  these 
beauties  and  splendors  are  batlied  in  a  golden,  dia- 
monded, glowing  atmos]>here,  the  atmosphere  of  illumin- 
ations a  gior/io,  so  diliicult  to  render  witli  the  means 
which  a  painter  has  at  his  cotnraand. 

Finally,  to  complete  the  list  of  transformations,  you 
will  see  Zichy  emulating  the  successes  of  Grant,  of 
Landseer,  of  Alfred  de  Di-eux,  and  other  painters  of  the 
chase.  Our  artist  has  prepared  for  a  magnificent 
Game-Book,  which  is  to  be  offered  to  the  Emperor  of 
Russia,  a  series  of  borderings  for  the  pages,  designed 
with  the  most  exquisite  taste.  Each  page  has  a  space 
where  is  to  be  written  the  munber  of  ])ioccs  killed,  and 
an  ample  margin  left  free  for  the  ]>ainter's  design. 
Each  design  represents  a  different  hunting-scene,  and 
the  difticidtics  of  arrangement  are  surmounted  with 
wonderful  skill.  There  is  the  chase  of  the  bear,  the 
lynx,  the  elk,  the  wolf,  the  hare,  the  moor-fowl,  the 
partridge,  the  snipe,  the  crane  ;  each  with  the  equip- 


186  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ment  peculiar  to  it,  and  the  landscape  which  is  its  cus- 
tomary back_:^round :  sonictimcs  snowy,  sometimes 
foggy ;  a  daybreak,  a  twilight ;  a  thicket  or  a  heath, 
according  to  the  hauDts  and  the  habits  of  the  game. 
Deer  of  evei-y  kind,  and  creatures  of  fur  and  of 
feather,  blood-horses,  hunting-dogs,  guns,  knives, 
powder-horns,  spears,  and  ail  implements  of  the  chase, 
are  rendered  with  a  skill,  a  truth,  and  an  accuracy 
almost  incredible,  and  in  a  light  tone  which  never  goes 
beyond  the  gamut  of  ornament  and  harmonizes  with 
the  silvery,  russet,  or  bluish  tints  of  the  landscape. 
Each  hunt  is  led  by  a  great  officer  of  the  palace,  some 
noble,  whose  head — no  larger  than  your  finger-nail — is 
an  exquisite  portrait  in  miniature.  The  collection  ends 
with  a  stroke  of  wit  in  the  best  taste.  Among  all 
tlicse  Nimrods,  mighty  hunters  before  the  Lord,  ought  to 
1)0  found  Count  A.,  wlio  never  liimts !  Zichy  has  repre- 
sented him  descending  the  palace  stairs,  coming  to 
meet  the  Emperor,  on  the  latter's  return  from  the  chase. 
Tims  Count  A.  has  his  place  in  the  picture,  and  still 
no  ^'iolencc  is  done  to  the  truth. 

I  stop,  for  one  must  not  go  on  forever ;  but  I  have 
not  said  all.  A  chapter  might  be  employed  in  the 
description  of  this  IIunting-Book,  with  its  fifteen 
or  twenty  leaves,  and  there  are  other  pictures,  which 
I  have  not  even  mentioned.  Like  Gustave  Dore,  Zichy 
is  a  very  phenomenon  of  genius, — a  portentum,  to  use 
a  Latin  word, — a  crater  ])erpetuaily  in  eruption.  But 
I  have  said  enough  to  show  that  this  artist  is  one 
I  of  the  most  wonderful  men  who  has  lived  since  1830, 
that  climacteric  period  of  art. 


XV. 

ST.  Isaac's. 

THE  first  object  that  fixes  the  attention  of  the 
traveller,  who,  sailing  up  the  Gnlf  of  Finland, 
draws  near  St.  PeterslMirj^,  is  the  dome  of  St.  Isaac's, 
resting  like  a  golden  niitrc  above  the  city's  silhouette. 
If  the  sky  is  clear  and  there  is  sunshine,  the  effect  is  like 
enchantment;  but  this  first  impression  is  a  true  one,  and 
■\ve  shall  do  well  to  accept  it.  The  church  of  St.  Isaac's 
docs  indeed  stand  ])re-eminent  among  the  religions 
edifices  which  adorn  the  capital  of  All  the  Russias.  Of 
modern  construction,  and  but  recently  consecrated,  we 
may  regard  it  as  the  supreme  effort  of  the  architecture 
of  the  present  day.  Few  temples  have  seen  so  short  a 
period  of  time  elapse  between  the  laying  of  their  cor- 
ner-stone and  their  completion.  The  idea  of  the  archi- 
tect, a  Frenchman,  M.  A.  Iticard  de  Montf errand,  lias 
been  followed  fii-st  to  last  without  modification  or 
revision  other  than  that  introduced  by  himself  during 
the  erection  of  the  work,  lie  has  had  the  rare  good 
fortune  to  finish  the  edifice  which  lie  began,  a  l)uilding 
whose  importance  would  seem  to  have  justified  it  in 
absorbing  more  than  one  aitist-life. 

An  all-powerful  will  which  nothing — not  even  mate- 
rial obstacles — could  resist,  and  which  shrank  from  no 
saciifice  in  the  pui-suit  of  its  ends,  had  much  to  do  with 
bi'inging  tc  pass  this  prodigy  of  speed.  Undertaken  in 
181'.),  under  Alexander  I.,  continued  under  Nicholas, 
(completed  under  Alexander  II.,  in  185S,  St.  Isaac's  is  a 
ti'nri)lc',  of  faultless  finish  without  and  within,  of  abso- 
lute imity  of  style,  bearing  an  exact  date,  and  the  name 
oi'  its  author.     It  is  nut,  like  most  cathedrals,  the  slow 


188  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

product  of  time,  a  ciystallization  of  the  ages,  where  each 
epoch  has,  so  to  speak,  secreted  its  stalactite,  and  in 
which  too  often  the  flow  of  rehgious  faith,  arrested  or 
hindered,  lias  not  been  able  to  permeate  the  whole. 
The  symbolical  derrick,  which  rises  above  so  many  un- 
fliiislied  temples  in  Europe,  has  never  figured  above  the 
pediment  of  St.  Isaac's.  Uninterrupted  labor  in  less 
than  forty  years  has  brought  it  to  the  point  of  perfection 
where  it  now  is. 

The  aspect  of  St.  Isaac's  recalls,  melted  into  one  har- 
monious composition,  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  the  Pantheon 
of  Agrippa,  St.  Paul's  in  Loudon,  Ste.  Genevieve  in 
Paris,  and  the  dome  of  the  Invalides.  In  building  a 
church  with  a  cupola,  M.  de  Montferrand  of  course  made 
a  careful  study  of  edifices  of  this  kind,  and  profited  by 
the  experience  of  his  predecessors,  wiihout,  however, 
losing  his  own  originality.  He  selected  for  his  dome 
that  ])articular  curve  which  was  at  once  the  most  elegant 
and  the  most  resistant,  and,  borrowing  a  grace  from  each 
system,  he  encircled  it  with  a  diadem  of  columns, 
and  placed  about  it  four  bell-towers. 

One  would  scarcely  suspect,  as  he  observes  the  I'egu- 
lar  simplicity  of  this  plan,  which  the  eye  and  the  mind 
comprehend  without  hesitation,  that  St.  Isaac's  contains, 
within  an  apparently  homogeneous  construction,  frag- 
ments of  an  earlier  church  which  it  was  forced  to 
absorb  and  utilize, — a  church  dedicated  to  the  same 
patron  saint,  and  rendered  historically  venei'able  by  the 
names  of  Peter  the  Great,  of  Catherine  II.,  and  oi  Paul 
I.,  who  all  contributed  more  or  less  to  its  splendor,  with- 
out, however,  bringing  it  to  perfection. 

The  plans  submitted  by  M.  de  Montferrand  to  the 
Emperor  Alexander  I.,  had  been  adopted,  and  work  had 
been  commenced,  when  very  serious  doubts  began  to 
arise  on  two  points:  whether  it  would  be  possible,  in 
uniting  the  new  portions  with  the  old,  to  secure  founda- 
tions firm  enough  neither  to  settle  nor  be  dislocated  ; 
and  whether  the  cupola  and  its  circle  of  columns  could 


ST.   ISAAC'S.  1S9 

safely  be  raised,  witli  tlioir  enonnons  weight,  to  so  rrj-rat 
height  in  air.  Arguineiits  against  M.  do  Mfjiitfcrrand's 
projects  were  even  publicly  set  forth  in  writing,  and  the 
activity  with  which  the  building  had  been  carried  for- 
ward suffered  material  abatement.  However,  they  still 
kept  at  work  in  the  quarries,  cutting  out  the  gigantic 
monoliths  which  were  to  support  the  pediments  and  the 
dome.  At  last,  on  the  accession  of  the  Emperor  J^ich- 
olas,  the  plans,  carefully  revised,  were  decided  to  be 
feasible ;  work  was  resumed,  and  complete  success  has 
proved  finally  the  wisdom  of  the  decision. 

It  will  not  be  possible  for  me  to  detail  the  ingenious 
methods  by  which  tli(5  foundations  of  this  enormous 
edifice  were  laid  with  security  in  the  marshy  soil,  nor  how 
the  columns,  each  a  monolith,  were  brought  to  the  spot 
and  raised  to  so  great  a  height,  although  this  work — all 
traces  of  which  either  are  nowhiddeu,  or  have  ceased  to 
exist — is  not  without  great  interest.  The  building  itself, 
as  it  stands  before  us,  is  all  with  which  I  propose  to 
deal. 

The  plan  of  the  church  of  St.  Isaac  the  Dalmatian — • 
a  saint  of  the  Greek  liturgy,  by  the  way,  and  altogether 
distinct  from  the  Old  Testament  patriarch — is  a  cross 
with  arms  of  equal  length,  differing  in  this  from  the 
Latin  cross,  of  which  the  foot  is  prolonged.  The  neces- 
sity of  having  the  higli  altar  in  the  eastern  end  of  the 
church,  and  of  preserving  the  iconostase  already  conse- 
crated, joined  to  the  not  less  inexorable  necessity  that 
the  front  portico,  repeated  exactly  upon  the  farther  side 
of  the  building,  should  look  towards  the  river  and  the 
statue  of  Peter  the  Great,  made  it  impossible  to  place 
the  great  door  o[)]-)osite  to  the  sanctuary.  The  two  en- 
trances corresponding  to  the  two  principal  colonnades 
are  lateral  in  respect  to  the  iconostase,  opposite  which  a 
door  opens  upon  the  small  octostylic  portico,  which  has 
but  one  row  of  columns,  this  also  being  symmetrically 
repeated  upon  the  side  of  the  building  corresponding. 
This   arrangement,  which   the    Greek   ritual   requires, 


190  A  WmTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

architecture  was  forced  to  accept,  and  to  harmonize,  as 
best  it  might,  with  the  aspect  of  a  buikling  which  could 
not  present  to  the  river,  from  which  it  is  separated  by  a 
broad  square,  anything  less  than  its  main  frontage. 
For  this  reason,  the  arms  of  the  gilded  crosses  surmount- 
ing tlie  dome  and  the  bell-towers  are  not  parallel  to  the 
fa9ades,  but  to  the  iconostase  ;  so  that  the  building  has 
two  frontages,  one  religious,  the  other  architectural ; 
and  at  the  same  time,  this  discordance,  inevitable  under 
the  given  conditions,  has  been  so  skilfully  masked  that 
it  recpiires  long  and  close  scrutiny  to  detect  it,  while 
from  the  inside  it  is  not  to  be  perceived  at  all. 

Standing  at  the  corner  of  the  boulevard  of  the  Ad- 
miralty, St.  Isaac's  appears  to  you  in  all  its  magnificence, 
and  from  this  point  you  can  judge  of  the  entire  edifice. 
The  main  fa9ado  presents  itself  fully  to  the  view,  also 
one  of  the  side  colonnades ;  three  of  the  four  bell-towers 
are  visible,  and  the  dome  is  outlined  against  the  sky, 
with  its  encircling  columns,  its  golden  coif,  and  its  bold 
lantern,  above  which  towers  the  emblem  of  our  salva- 
tion. 

At  the  first  glance  the  effect  is  most  satisfying, 
Wliatever  might  be  too  severe,  too  serious,  in  a  word, 
too  classic,  in  the  outline,  is  felicitously  relieved  by  the 
richness  and  the  color  of  materials  the  most  beautiful 
that  ever  human  devotion  employed  in  the  construction 
of  a  temple :  gold,  mai'ble,  bronze,  granite.  Without 
falling  into  an_y  parti-colored  effect,  St.  Isaac's  borrows 
from  these  splendid  materials  a  harmonious  variety  of 
tints,  whose  genuineness  makes  them  the  more  enchant- 
ing; there  is  no  ])aiut  there,  nothing  fictitious  ;  nothing 
in  all  this  magnificence  utters  a  falsehood  to  God.  The 
massive  granite  bears  up  the  eternal  bronze,  indestruc- 
tible marble  clothes  the  walls,  and  pure  gold  shines  from 
crosses,  dome,  and  bell-towers,  giving  the  building  the 
oriental  and  Byzantine  stamp  of  the  Greek  church. 

St.  Isaac's  rests  upon  a  granite  foundation,  which 
should  have  been  higher,  as  it  seems  to  me.     Not  that 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  191 

it  is  out  of  proportion  with  the  ])uik]in!T;,  but  that,  stand- 
ins^  alone  in  the  centre  of  a  square  Uned  with  jjahices 
and  lofty  houses,  the  church  as  seen  from  a  distance 
would  have  been  finer,  if  its  base  had  been  somewiwit 
more  elevated.  This  is  the  more  true,  from  the  fact 
that  a  long  horizontal  line  tends  to  have  a  depression  in 
the  middle, — a  fact  which  Greek  art  recognized  in  giv- 
ino-  a  slight  slope  to  the  architrave  of  the  Parthenon  on  ^ 
either  side  from  the  central  point.  A  great  square, 
however  level  it  may  really  be,  always  seems  a  little 
c<^ncave  in  the  centre.  It  is  this  optical  illusion,  not 
duly  allowed  for,  which  makes  St.  Isaac's,  in  spite  of 
the  real  liarmony  of  its  proportions,  seem  to  stand  too 
low.  This  disadvantage,  wliich,  after  all,  is  not  very 
serious,  might  be  remedied  by  sloping  the  ground  a 
little  from  the  base  of  the  cathedral,  to  the  extremities 
of  the  square. 

The  approach  to  each  of  the  four  porticos  corre- 
sponding to  the  arms  of  the  Greek  cross,  is  by  three 
colossal' granite  stairs,  calculated  for  a  giant's  footsteps, 
huilt  without  care  or  pity  for  human  limbs ;  on  the 
three  sides  where  there  are  entrances,  however,  these 
colossal  steps  are  cut  away  opposite  the  doors,  and  the 
space  filled  by  nine  of  reasonable  dimensions.  The 
fourth  does  not  ])resent  this  arrangement ;  there  is  no 
door  into  the  building  on  this  side,  as  the  iconostase  is  at 
this  end  of  the  church,  and  the  granite  staircase,  worthy 
of  the  temples  of  Karnak,  reigns  unbroken,  save  where 
on  each  side,  in  the  angle  near  the  wall,  the  steps  for  a 
narrow  space  are  again  divided  by  threes,  so  that  access 
can  be  bad,  if  desired,  to  the  floor  of  the  portico. 

All  this  base  of  Finland  granite,  reddish  specked  with 
gray,  is  cut,  polished,  and  put  together  with  Egyptian 
accuracy,  and  will  bear  unwearied  for  countless  ages 
the  massive  edifice  which  rests  upon  it. 

The  j)ortico  which  looks  towards  the  Neva  is,  as  are  all 
the  others,  octostylic,  that  is,  c()m()osed  of  a  row  of  cj^ht 
columns,  which  are  of  the  Corinlhian  order,  monolitlis, 


192  ^  WTNTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

■u^itli  base  and  capital  of  bronze.  In  the  rear  of  these, 
two  groups  of  similar  columns,  four  in  each,  support  the 
coffers  of  the  ceiling  and  the  i-oof  of  the^  triangular  ped- 
iment, whose  architrave  rests  upon  the  first  row;  in  all, 
sixteen  columns  forming  a  most  superb  and  imposing 
peristyle.  The  portico  of  the  corresponding  fa9ade 
repeats  this  in  every  point.  The  other  two,  likewise 
octostylic,  have  but  a  single  row  of  columns,  of  the  same 
order  and  the  same  materials.  They  were  added  to  the 
original  plan  while  the  building  was  in  process  of 
erection,  and  fulfil  admirably  the  intention  with  which 
they  were  added  :  to  give  ornament  to  the  sides  of  the 
<;hurch,  which  were  somewhat  too  bare  at  first. 

Standing  among  the  columns,  you  are  astonished  at 
the  great  size  of  the  sliafts,  which,  seen  from  a  distance, 
appear  remarkable  rather  by  reason  of  their  elegance  than 
their  dimensions.  These  huge  monoliths  are  not  less  than 
seven  feet  in  diameter  and  tif  ty-six  feet  in  height.  Seen 
close  at  hand,  they  are  like  towers,  circled  with  bronze 
and  crowned  with  a  brazen  vegetation.  There  are  forty- 
eight  of  these  in  the  four  porticos,  not  to  speak  of  the 
piTlarsof  the  cupola,  which  are,  it  is  true,  only  thirty  feet 
in  height.  After  Pompey's  Pillar,  and  the  Colunm  of 
Alexander  in  St.  Petersburg,  these  are  the  largest  single 
stones  that  the  hand  of  man  has  cut,  rounded,  and  pol- 
ished. Whichever  way  the  light  strikes,  a  ray,  blue  as 
the  flash  of  steel,  runs  quivering  along  their  surface 
smoother  than  a  mirror,  and  by  its  perfect  line,  which 
no  seam  hiterrupts,  proves  to  the  doubting  "mind  that 
the  monstrous  block  is  indeed  but  a  single  stone. 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  wdiat  an  idea  of  strength, 
power,  and  eternal  duration  is  expressed  in  their  mute 
language  by  these  giant  columns,  springing  upward  with 
one  impulse  and  bearing  upon  their  Atleantean  heads 
this  weight  of  pediments  and  statues,  which  is  for  them 
so  light  a  burden.  They  are  like  the  very  ribs  of  the 
earth,  and  it  %vould  seem  they  must  endure  as  long  as 
the  earth  itself. 


ST.   ISAAC'S.  193 

The  liundrcd  aud  four  moiioHtlis  employed  in  tlio 
construction  of  St.  Isaac's,  come  from  quarries  situated 
in  two  small  islands  in  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  between 
Vibouri^  and  Friedrichhara.  Everybody  knows  that 
Finland  is  one  of  the  richest  countries  in  the  world  in 
gi'anite.  Some  cosmic  cataclysin,  anterior  to  all  history, 
donbtless  accumulated  there  in  enormous  masses  this 
beautiful  material,  indestructible  as  nature. 

To  continue  our  linear  sketch.  On  each  side  of  the 
projection  formed  by  the  colonnade,  opens  in  the  marble 
wall  a  ma2:niticent  window  with  ornate  bronze  cornice 
su])ported  by  two  granite  colonnettes,  the  bases  and  capi- 
tal, of  t'aese  being  also  of  bronze,  and  tlio  window  hav- 
ing a  balcony  with  a  balustrade  ;  denticulated  cornices, 
surmounted  by  attics,  mark  the  principal  architectural 
divisions  of  the  building,  and,  jutting  out,  cast  favoring 
shadows.  In  each  angle  is  a  fluted  Corinthian  pilaster, 
above  M'hicli  stands  an  angel  with  wide-spread  wings. 

Two  quadrangular  campaniles,  springing  f]"om  the 
grand  line  of  tlui  i)uilding  at  each  corner  of  the  pediment, 
I'opcat  the  ■j.io^if^-  of  the  great  vrindows:  granite  columns, 
bronze  capitals,  balcony  with  balustrade,  triangular  ped- 
iment; and  sliov*',  through  their  semi-circular  baj's,  the 
bells  hung  without  wood-work,  by  means  of  a  peculiar 
mechanism.  A  round,  gilded  roof,  surmounted  by  a 
cross,  the  foot  fixed  in  a  crescent,  coifs  these  bell-towers, 
the  light  strikes  thi-ough  them,  and  when  tlie  sun  shines 
full  upon  the  bells,  strange,  harmonious  vibraticjns  escape 
into  the  air.  It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that  these  two 
bell-towers  are  rejn'oduced  identically  upon  the  other 
side  ;  indeed,  from  the  place  where  we  stand  we  can  see 
shining  the  cupola  of  the  third.  Only  the  fourth  is  con- 
cealed from  view  by  the  ma.is  of  the  dome. 

At  the  two  corners  of  the  fa9ado,  kneeling  angels 
hang  garlands  upon  candelabra  of  anticpie  form.  Upon 
the  acroteria  of  the  pediment  arc  groups  and  separate 
figures  representing  the  apostles. 

All  this  population  of  statues  gives  life  to  the  silhouette 
9 


194  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

of  the  building,  and  interrupts,  with  the  happiest  possible 
effect,  its  horizontal  lines. 

Thus  we  have  a  fair,  general  notion  of  the  masses  of 
what  may  be  called  the  first  story  of  the  church.  Let 
us  now  examine  the  dome,  which,  from  the  square  plat- 
form formed  by  the  roof,  springs  boldly  towards  heaven. 

A  circular  base,  or  socle,  divided  into  three  mouldings, 
retreating  one  above  the  other,  serves  as  the  foundation 
for  the  dome,  and  also  the  plinth  for  the  twenty-four 
monoliths  of  granite,  thirty  feet  high,  with  bases  and 
capitals  of  bronze,  which  surround  the  main  mass  of  the 
dome  with  a  rotunda  of  columns,  an  aerial  diadem 
thi'ough  which  plays  and  glitters  the  sunlight.  In  the 
spaces  between  the  columns  are  pierced  twelve  windows, 
and  upon  the  capitals  rests  a  circular  cornice  surmounted 
by  a  balustrade  cut  by  twenty -faur  pedestals,  whereon 
stand,  with  wings  vibrating,  as  it  were,  as  many  angels, 
bearing  in  their  hands  the  instruments  of  the  Passion,  or 
attributes  of  the  celestial  hierarchy. 

Above  tliis  angel-crown,  which  rests  upon  the  brow  of 
the  cathedral,  the  dome  still  rises.  There  are  twenty- 
four  windows  placed  between  the  same  number  of  pilas- 
ters, and  from  the  cornice  upward  curves  the  immense 
cupola,  dazzling  with  gold,  and  striated  with  nervures 
falling  back  to  the  perpendicular  of  the  columns.  An 
octagonal  lantern,  entirely  gilded,  and  tlanked  by  colon- 
nettes,  surmounts  the  cupola,  ami  above  this  a  colossal 
cross,  cast  in  open- work, — dec/ie,  to  use  the  heraldic  terra, 
— stands  victoriously  implanted  in  the  crescent. 

There  are  in  architecture  as  in  music  certain  \^'ell-bal- 
anced  rhythms  whose  harmonious  symmetry  charms  eye 
and  ear,  v/ithout  giving  the  slightest  inquietude  ;  the 
mind  foresees  with  pleasure  the  return  of  the  motif  i\.t 
the  place  marked  out  for  it  in  advance.  St.  Isaac's  pro- 
daces  this  effect ;  it  unfolds  itself  like  a  beautiful  phrase 
of  religious  music,  keeping  the  promise  of  its  pure  and 
classic  theme,  never  deceiving  the  eye  b}'  a  discordant 
note.     The  red  columns  are  like  choirs  of  equal  num- 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  195 

ber  chantinn^  tlic  same  melody  upon  all  four  sides  of  tlio 
build ini]:;.  The  Greek  acanthus  spreads  its  2;reen  fiori- 
tiire  of  bronze  over  all  the  ea])itals.  Bandelets  of  o-ran- 
ite  stretch  above  the  friezes  like  the  linos  of  the  musical 
scale,  between  wliich  the  statues  correspond  with  one 
another  by  contrasts  or  resembhinces  of  attitude  which 
recall  tlie  required  inversions  of  a  fugue  ;  and  the  great 
dome  lifts  \\\)  into  the  sky  the  supreme  note  of  all,  from 
among  the  four  bell-towers,  which  serve  as  its  accom- 
paniment. 

Doubtless  the  motifh  simi)le,  like  nil  v/liich  are  de- 
rived from  Greek  and  Ilouian  antiquity  ;  but  how 
splendid  tlie  execution  !  What  a  symphony  of  marble, 
of  granite,  bronze,  and  gold  ! 

The  classic  austerity  of  the  plan  adopted  by  the  ar- 
chitect of  St.  Isaac's  forbade  him  to  employ  upon  the 
exterior  of  tliis  temple  of  severest  outline,  any  of  that 
fanciful  ornamentation  wherein  the  caprice  of  the  chisel 
disports  itself, — those  garlands,  those  clusters  of  foliage, 
those  groups  of  attributes  mingled  with  figures  of  chil- 
dren and  little  genii, — ornaments  often  not  very  consist- 
ent with  the  character  of  an  edifice,  and  useful  only  to 
mask  vacant  spaces.  AVith  the  exception  of  the  acanthi 
and  the  few  rare  decorations  required  by  the  order  of 
architecture,  St.  Isaac's  is  adorned  only  with  its  statu- 
ary,— bas-reliefs,  grou})s,  and  single  figures  in  bronze  ; — 
this  is  all.     Magnificent  sobriety  ! 

Eetaining  the  same  position  at  the  corner  of  the  bou- 
levard of  the  Admiralty,  I  will  now  describe  the  bas-re- 
liefs and  statues  as  seen  from  this  point,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  making  later  the  circuit  of  the  building. 

The  bas-relief  of  the  northern  pediment — the  one, 
that  is,  which  looks  towards  the  Neva — represents  the 
Ilesurrcction  of  Christ ;  it  is  the  work  of  M.  Lemairo, 
the  author  of  the  pediment  of  the  IMadeleine  in  Paris. 
It  is  grand  and  highly  ornamental,  lilling  well  its  place. 
The  risen  Christ  springs  from  the  tomb,  the  labarum 
in  his  hand,  in  the  attitude  of  ascension  ;  and,  phiced 


196  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

in  the  very  centre  of  the  triangle,  tlie  figure  has  the  op- 
portunity to  be  represented  standing  at  its  full  lieiglit. 
On  the  Teft  of  this  radiant  vision,  an  angel,  seated,  repels, 
with  a  gesture  of  command,  the  Roman  soldiers  on 
guard  at  the  tomb,  whose  attitudes  ai-e  expressive  of  sur- 
prise, fear,  and  also  of  the  desire  to  oppose  the  predicled 
miracle ;  on  the  right  two  angels,  standing,  welcome 
with  reassuring  kindness  the  holy  women  who  have  come 
to  weep  and  scatter  perfumes  upon  the  tomb  of  Jesus. 
The  Magdalen  has  sunk  upon  her  knees  ;  overwhelmed 
with  grief,  she  has  not  yet  percei\'cd  the  miracle  ;  Mary 
and  Martha,  bringing  vases  of  spikenard  and  myrrh,  are 
watching  ascend  in  glory  the  radiant  body  to  which  they 
came  to  bring  the  honors  due  to  the  dead,  and  towards 
-uhich  one  of  the  angels  directs  their  attention  with 
uplifted  fingers.  The  "group  is  well  disposed  in  pyram- 
idal form,  and  the  bent  postures,  which  the  lessening 
height  of  the  pediment  requires,  explain  themselves  nat- 
urally. The  relief  of  the  figures,  according  to  their 
plac^es,  is  calculated  so  as  to  pi-oduce  firm  shadows  and 
decided  contours,  which  do  not  embarrass  the  eye ;  a 
felicitous  union  of  the  i-aised  figure  and  the  flat  surface 
pioduces  all  the  effect  of  j^erspective  that  can  be  re- 
quired f]'om  a  bas-relief  without  destroying  the  great 
architectural  lines. 

Below  the  pediment,  on  a  marble  tablet  set  in  the 
granite  frieze,  is  inscribed  a  legend,  in  the  old  Slavic 
character,  which  is  the  sacred  text  of  the  Greek  church. 
This  inscription,  in  letters  of  gilded  bronze,  is  this  sen- 
tence: "  Lord,  in  Thy  strength  the  Czar  shall  rej<:)ice." 

Upon  jiedestals  at  the  tlmie  angles  of  the  pediment 
are  placed  the  evangelist  St.  John  and  the  two  apostles 
St.  Peter  and  St.  Taul.  The  evangelist,  who  occupies 
the  central  ])osition,  is  seated  with  the  symbolic  eagle  at 
his  side  ;  he  holds  a  pen  in  the  right  hand  ;  and  in  the 
left,  a  roll  of  pap^yrus.  The  two  aposflcs  are  identified, 
the  one  by  the  keys,  the  other  by  a  great  sword  upon 
which  he  leans. 


ST.   ISAACS.  197 

Beiieatli  the  peristyle,  above  tlic  principal  door,  a  bas- 
relief  of  bronze,  semi-circular  in  the  n])per  part,  like  the 
vaulted  space  in  which  it  is  framed,  represents  the 
Christ  on  the  Cross,  between  two  thieves.  At  the  foot  of 
the  tree  of  suffering,  the  holy  women  are  lamenting-, 
sinking  upon  the  ground  in  an  agony  of  grief ;  in  one 
corner  lioman  soldiers  are  throwing  dice  for  the  posses- 
sion of  the  vesture  of  the  Divine  Sufferer  ;  in  the  other, 
awakened  by  his  last  cry,  the  dead  arise,  and  lift  up  the 
stones  fron/off  their  sepulchres.  In  the  semi-circles  over 
the  two  side-doors  are  seen,  at  the  left,  the  Bearing  of 
the  Cross ;  at  the  right,  the  Descent  into  the  Tomb. 
The  Cruciiixion  is  by  M.  Vitali ;  the  other  two  bas-re- 
liefs by  Baron  Klodt. 

The  great  bronze  door  has  also  bas-reliefs  disposed  as 
follows:  in  the  lintel,  the  Triinn])hal  Entry  of  Christ 
into  Jerusalem;  in  the  left  leaf  of  the  door,  the  Ecce 
Homo;  in  the  right,  the  Flagellation  ;  beneath,  in  the 
obh>ng  panels,  two  saints  in  sacerdotal  dress,  St.  Nicho- 
las and  St.  Isaac,  each  occupying  a  niche  whose  semi- 
circular top  forms  a  shell;  in  the  lower  panels,  two 
little  kneeling  angels  bearing  a  Greek  cross  with  iu- 
scriptit)ns. 

The  drama  of  the  Passion,  with  all  its  phases,  is  thus 
unfolded  beneath  the  ]H)rtico,  the  apotheosis  shining 
gloriously  upon  the  pediment. 

We  will  now  i)ass  around  to  the  eastern  portico, 
wliose  great  bas-r(;lief  is  also  by  M.  Lemaire,  and  repre- 
sents an  event  in  the  life  of  St.  Isaac  hhnself.  The 
story  is  that,  as  the  Emperor  Valens  was  departing  from 
Constantinople  to  go  against  the  Goths,  St.  Isaac,  who 
lived  in  a  cave  just^outside  the  city,  stopped  him  on  his 
way,  and  predicted  to  him  that  he  would  not  succeed  in 
his  enterprise,  inasmuch  as  he  had  incurred  the  divine 
displeasure  by  thesupi)ort  wliich  he  had  rendered  to  the 
Arians.  The  offended  Emperor  caused  the  saint  to  be 
loaded  with  chains  and  di-agged  away  to  ^irison,  with  the 
assurance  that  if  his   })rophe('y  ])rovcd  false,  he  should 


198  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

die  ;  but  tliat  if  events  made  it  good,  his  liberty  should 
be  restored  to  him.  The  Emperor,  however,  vras  himself 
killed  upon  the  expedition,  and  the  saint  received  his 
liberty  and  great  rewards  at  the  hands  of  the  succeeding 
Emperor,  Theodosius. 

In  the  bas-relief,  Valens  is  represented  mounted 
upon  a  horse  wlio  rears  half-way,  affrighted  by  the  ob- 
stacle of  the  saint  standing  in  the  midcHe  of  the  road. 
An  equestrian  statue  is  at  all  times  a  difficult  matter, 
and  but  few  exist  wdiich  are  perfectly  satisfactory.  In 
bas-relief,  the  difficulty  is  even  greater,  but  M.  Leraaire 
has  very  skilfully  vanquished  it.  This  hoi-se,  executed 
wnth  truthfulness,  but  witliout  too  minute  detail,  as  suits 
statuary  used  in  connection  with  architecture,  carries 
the  rider  well,  whose  figure,  thus  elevated,  produces  a  fine 
effect,  and  dominates,  in  a  simple  and  natural  manner, 
the  groups  around  him.  The  saint  has  just  uttered  his 
prediction,  and  already  soldiers  are  beginning  to  execute 
the  emperor's  orders.  They  lay  fetters  upon  his  out- 
stretched arms,  which  supplicate  and  threaten.  Tliis 
two-fold  action  of  the  figure  could  scarcely  have  been 
better  expressed.  Behind  Yalens,  his  warriors  crov\'d 
upon  one  another,  drawling  out  their  swords,  grasping 
their  bucklers,  putting  on  their  armor, — all  expressing 
the  idea  of  an  army  gohig  upon  an  expedition.  Behind 
St.  Isaac  is  concealed  an  army  more  powerful  with 
Heaven,  of  unhappy  ones,  of  the  poor,  of  women  who 
hold  their  nurslings  to  their  breasts.  The  composition 
has  breadth  and  fidelity  and  action,  and  tlie  restraint 
imposed  by  the  shape  of  the  pediment  does  not  impair 
the  effect  of  the  remoter  groups. 

Upon  the  acroteria  are  three  statues  :  on  the  pedestal 
at  the  top,  St.  Luke  the  evangelist,  witli  his  ox  lying 
beside  him,  is  represented  painting  tlie  first  portrait  of 
the  Virgin,  which  is  the  sacred  type  of  the  Byzantine 
pictures ;  at  the  sidos,  St.  Simeon  with  his  saw,  St. 
James  with  a  book. 

The  Slavonic  inscription  signifies   literally :  "  Upon 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  199 

Thee,  O  Lord,  do  wc  rest,  and  we  shall  have  no  fear  for 
eternity." 

As  the  iconostasc  is  situated  at  this  end  of  the  build- 
ing, there  is  no  door  on  this  side,  and  consequently  no 
bas-relief  under  the  colonnade,  which  is  decorated  only 
with  Corinthian  pilasters. 

The  southern  i)cdiment  was  entrusted  to  M.  Vitali. 
It  represents  the  Adoration  of  the  Maj^i,  a  subject  which 
the\ii;reat  masters  of  paintinp;  have  rendered  almost  im- 
possible upon  canvas,  and  which  the  modern  sculptor 
rarely  attempts,  on  account  of  theinulti])licity  of  fii^ures 
it  requires,  although  the  simple-minded  Golliic  image- 
makers  did  not  shrink  from  it  in  their  patiently  wrought 
tri})tychs.  This  is  a  comj)osition  of  great  magnificence, 
of  an  affluence  a  little  too  facile,  pci-liaps,  but  seductive 
to  the  eye. 

Tlie  Virgin,  wrapped  in  her  veil,  which,  by  an  ingeni- 
ous idea  of  the  sculptor,  parts  like  the  curtains  of  a 
tabernacle,  offers  to  the  adoration  of  the  Magi,  who  are 
bowed  or  prostrated  before  her  in  attitudes  of  oriental 
resj^cct,  the  infant,  the  future  Iledccmer  of  the  world, 
of  whose  divinit}'  she  already  feels  a  prescience  ;  this 
miraculous  birth  preceded  by  angelic  visitants, — these 
kings  hastening  from  the  depths  of  Asia,  guided  by  a 
star,  to  kneel  before  a  manger,  with  their  golden  vases, 
and  their  boxes  of  perfumes, — all  this  troubles  the  heart 
of  the  holy  Mother  Ever  Virgin  ;  she  almost  is  afraid 
of  this  child  who  is  a  God!  Meanwhile,  St.  Joseph, 
leaning  against  a  rock,  takes  but  a  sliglit  part  in  wliat  is 
going  on,  accepting  with  submissi\e  faith,  but  without 
clearly  understanding  tliem,  ;ill  these  strange  events. 

In  the  train  of  Gaspai-,  Mclchior,  and  Bulthasar  are 
stately  personages, — officeis,  bearers  of  gifts,  and  slaves, 
who  till  both  ends  of  the  com])osition.  Behind  thera 
have  crept  in,  with  timid  curiosity,  adoring  at  a  distance, 
sliepherds  clad  in  goat-skins.  In  the  space  between  one 
group  and  another,  an  ox  puts  out  his  honest  head  with 
its  shining  uuizzle.     Uut  why  is  the  ass  omitted  'i     He 


200  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

sliorild  be  pulling  his  bit  of  straw  from  the  mauger,  and 
he,  too,  with  warm  breath,  should  caress  this  future  Sav- 
iour of  the  world,  who  has  just  been  born  in  a  stable. 
Art  has  no  right  to  be  ^nore  proud  than  the  Divinity 
Himself.  Jesus  did  not  despise  the  humble  beast ;  it 
was  seated  upon  a  she-ass  that  he  made  his  entry  into 
Jerusalem. 

Following  the  invariable  rhythm  of  the  decoration, 
three  statues  figure  upon  the  acroteria  of  this  fa9ade  : 
at  the  summit,  St.  Matthew,  writing  from  the  angel's 
dictation  ;  at  the  two  ends,  St.  Andrew  with  his  cross  in 
the  form  of  an  X,  St.  Philip,  with  his  book  and  crosier. 

The  inscription  of  the  frieze  is  this  sentence  :  "  My 
House  shall  be  called  the  House  of  Prayer." 

Entering  beneath  the  peristyle,  v7q  find  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  northern  portico  repeated. 

Over  the  main  door  is  a  gi-eat  galvano-plastic  bas-re- 
lief,  representing  the  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds.  This 
is  a  more  familiar  repetition  of  the  Adoration  of  the 
Magi,  described  above.  The  central  group  is  nearly  the 
same,  though  the  Virgin  turns  with  more  sympathetic 
ahandon  toward  the  shepherds,  who  are  bringing  to  the 
new-boi'u  child  their  rustic  offerings,  than  towards  the 
Magian  kings  laying  rich  presents  at  his  feet.  She 
does  not  play  the  queen,  but  makes  herself  gentle 
.  towards  these  humble,  simple,  poor  ones,  who  give  the 
best  they  have.  She  presents  her  child  to  them  in  all 
confidence,  unfolding  his  wrappings  that  she  may  show 
them  how  strong  he  is,  and  the  shepherds,  bending  over, 
or  with  one  knee  on  the  ground,  admire  and  adore,  full 
of  faith  in  the  words  of  the  angel.  They  crowd  around  : 
one  woman  has  a  basket  of  fruit  upon  her  shoulder  ;  a 
child  lirings  a  pair  of  doves ;  and  over  all,  angels  are 
hovering  about  the  star  whicli  has  designated  the  stable 
at  Bethlehem. 

Over  the  lateral  doors  arc  bas-reliefs  by  M.  Laganov- 
ski :  the  Angel  annomicing  the  Birth  of  Christ  to  the 
Shepherds,  and  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents.     Upon 


ST.   ISAACS.  201 

tbe  lintel  of  the  i^rcat  bronze  door  is  the  Pi-esentation  in 
the  Temple  ;  ui)on  the  leaves  of  the  door,  the  Flight 
into  Egypt,  and  the  Child  Jesus  among  the  Doctors  ; 
below,  a  warrior-saint  and  an  angel,  St.  Alexander 
Kcwski  and  St,  Michael ;  still  lower,  two  little  angels 
beai'ing  crosses. 

This  portico  contains  in  its  decoration  the  whole  poem 
of  the  nativity  and  childhood  of  Christ;  as  the  other 
contained  the  drama  of  the  Passion. 

In  the  pediment  of  the  eastern  side  we  have  seen  St. 
Isaac,  persecuted  l)y  the  Emperor  Valens ;  npon  the 
west  we  find  his  trium])]),  if  such  a  word  may  accord 
with  the  humility  of  a  saint. 

The  Emperor  Theodosius  the  Great  returns  victorious 
from  a  war  against  the  barbarians,  and  at  the  Gilded 
Gate,  St.  Isaac,  gloriously  delivered  from  his  ])rison, 
presents  himself  in  his  poor  hermit's  frock,  girt  with  a 
chaplet  of  beads,  holding  in  the  left  liand  a  double- 
armed  cross,  and  raising  the  right  in  lienediction  above 
the  l]mperor's  head.  Theodosius  bends  in  an  attitude 
of  devotion,  and  his  arm  thi'own  around  the  Empress 
Elavilhi  involves  her  in  his  own  movement,  and  seems 
to  wish  to  associate  her  in  the  benediction  of  the  saint. 
The  intention  is  charming  and  very  happily  rendered. 
August  resemblances  may  be  remarked  in  the  majestic 
heads  of  the  Em])eror  and  Empress.  At  the  feet  of  the 
lanrel-crowned  Theodosius  is  seen  the  eagle,  and  em- 
l)lems  of  victory.  At  our  right,  warriors  whose  attitude 
breathes  the  most  lively  fervor,  bow  the  head  and  bend 
the  knee,  lowering  before  the  cross  the  insignia  of  human 
authority.  At  a  little  distance  a  personage  with  scowl- 
ing face  and  gesture  of  sj^itc  and  fnry  is  retreating, 
leaving  the  lield  to  St.  Isaac,  wliose  influence  has  carried 
the  day  :  this  is  Demophilos,  chief  of  the  Arians,  who 
had  helloed  to  persuade  Theodosius,  and  to  gain  the 
victory  for  heresy.  Also  is  to  be  observed  that  woman 
of  Edessa  with  her  child,  whose  sudden  appearance 
drove  back  the  troops  sent  for  the  persecution  of  tho 
9* 


203  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

Christians.  At  the  left,  a  lady  of  honor  belonging  to 
the  court,  attired  in  rich  garments,  is  supporting  a  poor 
paralj'tic  Avonian,  symbolizing  the  reign  of  charity  in 
this  Christian  court,  A  little  child,  wlio  is  at  play  in 
all  the  graceful  suppleness  of  liis  age,  contrasts  finel}^ 
"with  the  rigid  immobility  of  the  paralytic.  In  the  cor- 
ner of  the  bas-relief,  by  a  pynchi-onism  which  idealized 
sculpture  permits,  figures  the  architect  of  the  church, 
draped  after  the  antique,  and  presenting  a  miniature 
model  of  the  cathedral  destined  later  to  rise  under  the 
patronage  of  St.  Isaac. 

This  beautiful  composition,  whose  groups  are  so  hap- 
pily balanced,  is  the  work  of  M.  Yitali, 

Under  this  portico,  more  simple  than  tliose  of  the 
north  and  south,  there  are  no  semi-circular  l)as-reliefs. 
It  has  but  a  single  door,  opening  opposite  the  iconostase. 
This  bronze  door  is  divided  like  the  others,  and  contains 
in  bas-relief,  in  the  lintel,  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount ; 
in  the  lipper  portion  of  the  two  leaves,  the  Resurrection 
oi  Lazarus,  and  Jesus  healing  a  pai-alytic,  St.  Peter 
and  St.  Paul  occupy  the  oblong  panels,  and  below,  an- 
gels bear  up  the  symbol  of  redemption.  The  vine  and 
the  corn,  symbols  of  the  eucharist,  are  employed  in  the 
decoration  of  this  door  and  of  the  others. 

St.  Mark,  with  the  lion,  which  Venice  bears  in  her 
coat-of-arms,  is  writing  his  gospel  on  the  summit  of  the 
pediment,  and  the  two  extremes  are  adorned,  the  one 
by  St.  Thomas  bearing  the  square,  and  extending  the 
sceptical  finger  wherewith  he  desired  to  convince  him- 
self of  the  resurrection  of  Christ;  the  other  b}'  St. 
Bartholomew  with  the  instruments  of  his  martyrdom, 
the  wooden  horse  and  the  knife. 

Upon  the  tablet  of  the  frieze  is  this  inscription  :  "  To 
the  King  of  Kings." 

Its  ai-chaie  form  renders  the  Slavonic  character  well 
adapted  for  inscriptions  upon  buildings.  It  is,  in  itself, 
an  ornament.  There  are  still  other  sentences  under  the 
peristyles,  and  above  the  doors,  expressing  religious  or 


ST.   ISAAC'S.  203 

mystic  ideas.  I  have  translated  only  tliosc  which  are 
most  in  si<^ht. 

Tlic  sculptures  upon  all  the  doors  are  modelled  by 
M.  Vital!,  assisted  by  N.  M.  Saleraann  and  Bouilli ;  to 
him  also  are  due  the  figures  of  the  evangelists  and  apos- 
tles standing  on  the  pedestals  above  and  at  each  end  of 
the  pediments.  These  figures  are  fifteen  feet  two  inches 
in  height.  The  angels  kneeling  near  the  candelabra 
are  seventeen  feet  Ingh,  and  the  candelabra  themselves 
twenty-tw^o  feet.  Tl'iese  angels  with  their  great  wings 
spread  wide  are  like  mystic  eagles  who  have  swooped 
down  from  the  heavenly  heiglits  upon  the  four  corners 
of  the  building. 

Also,  as  I  have  said,  a  crowd  of  angels  rests  upon  the 
crown  of  the  dome.  They  are  so  far  away  that  the  mi- 
nute details  of  their  aspect  cannot  be  perfectly  distin- 
guished ;  but  their  elegant  and  graceful  outlines  strike 
the  beholder  even  at  the  distance  from  which  he  sees 
them. 

Thus,  on  the  cornice  surrounding  the  cupola,  on  the 
acroteria,  and  along  the  edge  of  the  roof,  we  have, 
without  counting  the  figures' in  high  relief  of  the  pedi- 
ments, the  bas-reliefs  above  the  portals,  and  the  saints 
and  angels  who  stand  in  niches  of  tlie  doors, — fifty-two 
statues,"  t!n-ice  the  mitm-al  size,  farming  for  St.  Isaac's 
an  eternal  people  of  bronze  in  attitudes  of  great  variety, 
and  yet  everywhere  obedient,  like  an  architectural 
chorus,  to  the  cadences  of  a  linear  rliythm. 

Before  we  enter  the  temple,  of  which  I  have  now 
made  a  sketch  as  faithful  as  the  insufhciency  of  words 
will  permit,  let  me  again  say  that  it  would  be  a  great 
error  to  imagine,  though  its  outlines  are  thus  pure,  noble, 
and  severe,  its  ornamentation  infrequent  and  sober,  and 
its  style  austerely  classic,  that  it  has,  in  its  ]:»erfect  regu- 
larity, anything  of  the  cold,  monotonous,  and  slightly 
wearisome  effect  of  what — for  want  of  a  more  coi-rect 
expression — we  call  classic  architecture.  The  gold  of 
its  cupolas,  the  rich  variety  of  its  materials  preserve  it 


204  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

from  this  disadvantage  ;  and  the  climate  gives  it  color 
with  plays  of  light  aud  unexpected  effects,  so  that  it  is 
no  longer  Eoinan,  but  perfectly  and  -svondrously  Ens- 
sian.  The  fairies  of  the  North  hover  about  this  grave 
and  solemn  edifice,  and  nationalize  it  completely,  yet 
without  depriving  it  of  its  stately,  classic  grandeur. 

Winter,  in  Russia,  has  a  poetry  all  its  own  ;  its  rigors 
are  compensated  by  beauties,  by  effects  and  "  as])ects 
which  are  most  picturesque.  The  snow  ices  with  silver 
these  golden  cupolas,  sharpens  with  its  gleaming  line 
the  outlines  of  pediment  aud  entablature,  lays  white 
touches  amid  the  brazen  acanthus  leaves,  puts  here  and 
there  a  luminous  point  on  the  salient  part  of  a  statue, 
chauges  with  magic  transformations  the  entire  tone  of 
the  coloring.  Thus  seen,  St,  Isaac  has  a  truly  local 
originality.  It  is  superb  with  color,  whether,  all  bright- 
ened with  white  touches,  it  stands  relieved  against  a 
curtain  of  gray  cloud,  or  whether  its  profile  is  cut,  clear 
and  fine,  upon  one  of  those  skies  of  rose  and  turquoise 
which  sliine  over  St.  Petersburg  when  the  air  is- dry 
and  cold,  and  the  snow  creaks  undei-  foot,  like  powder 
of  glass.  Sometimes  after  a  thaw  comes  an  icy  north 
wind  congealing  in  a  night,  over  the  Vv'hole  surface,  the 
sweat  of  marbles  and  granites.  Then  a  net-vv'ork  of 
pearls,  finer,  more  round  than  drops  of  dew  upon  plants, 
envelopes  the  giant  columns  of  the  peristyle  ;  the  reddish 
granite  assumes  the  most  delicate  rose-color,  with  some- 
thing on  its  surface  like  the  velvet  down  of  a  peach,  or 
the  blor-m  of  a  plum  ;  it  is  transformed  into  a  substance 
uul:nov/n,  like  those  precious  stones  of  which  is  built 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  The  crystallized  ^-apor  covers 
all  the  building  with  a  diamond  dust,  emitting  flashes 
and  sparkles,  wherever  the  sunshine  touches  it;  a  cathe- 
dral all  of  gems,  you  would  say,  in  tlie  City  of  God, 

Each  hour  of  the  day  has  its  own  mirage.  If  you 
look  at  St,  Isaac's  in  the  morning  from  the  quay  of  the 
Kera,  it  has  the  burning  color  of  amethyst  and  of  topaz  in 
the  midst  of  an  aureole  of  milky  and  roseate  splendors. 


Sr.  ISAAC'S.  205 

The  heavy  white  fogs  wliich  surge  about  its  Ijasc,  dctacli 
it  from  the  earth,  and  it  seems  lloating  in  an' archipel- 
ago of  vapor.  At  evening,  in  a  peculiar  incidence  of 
light,  from  the  corner  of  the  little  Morskaia,  with  its 
windows  traversed  by  the  rays  of  tbe  setting  sun,  it 
seems  all  ablaze,  as  if  on  fire  within,  the  windows  so 
flame  out  from  the  dark  walls.  Sometimes  in  foggy 
M'eather,  when  the  sky  is  low,  clouds  come  down  upon 
the  cujjola,  and  coif  it  like  a  mountain-top.  It  was 
wonderful,  as  once  I  saw  it,  when  the  lantern  and  the 
npper  half  of  tlie  dome  had  disappeared  under  a  bank 
of  vapor.  The  cloud  cutting  with  its  fleecj-  zone  the 
gilded  hemisphere  of  the  lofty  tower,  gave  the  cathe- 
dral a  prodigious  elevation.  It  seemed  a  Christian  Ua- 
bel  rising  upward  to  seek — not  now  witli  vain  boast  to 
brave — llim  without  whom  no  construction  endures. 

Even  the  night,  which  in  other  climates  casts  its 
impenetrable  crape  over  all  buildings,  cannot  entirely 
conceal  St.  Isaac's.  Its  cupola  remains  visible  beneath 
the  black  dais  of  the  slc}^  with  pale  golden  tints  like  a 
vast  half-luminous  ball.  No  blackness  of  darkness,  not 
even  in  the  gloomiest  December  midnight,  can  prevail 
against  it.  Ahvays,  it  can  be  seen  above  the  city  ;  the 
dv\-ellings  of  maji  fade  away  in  shadow  and  in  sleep, 
but  the  dwelling  of  God  shines,  and  seems  to  watch. 

V/hen  the  darkness  is  not  so  extreme,  and  the  gleam- 
ing starlight,  and  the  vague  shining  of  the  Milky  Way 
allow  the  phantoms  of  ol)jccts  to  be  discerned,  the  great 
masses  of  the  cathedral  are  grandly  outlined,  and  as- 
sume a  mysterious  solemnity.  Its  columns,  polished  as 
a  mirror,  are  faintly  sketched  by  some  nnex]iected 
sinning  here  and  there,  and  along  the  summit  of  the 
building,  statues  half-seen  confusedly  suggest  celestial 
sentinels  placed  on  duty  about  the  sacred  edifice. 
Wiiatever  light  there  is  scattered  tln-ough  the  sky,  con- 
centrates itself  npon  one  ])oint  in  the  dome  with  such 
intensity,  that  the  nocturnal  passer-by  would  take  this 
solitary  golden  spangle   for  a  lighted  lamp.      An  ef- 


206  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

feet  even  more  magical  is  sometimes  produced:  lumi- 
nous touches  flame  at  the  extremity  of  each  one  of  the 
nervures  wliich  cut  the  dome,  and  encircle  it  with  a 
sparkling  crown,  a  stany  diadem  placed  above  the 
temple's  golden  tiara.  An  age  having  more  faith  and 
less  science  than  our  own  would  call  it  a  miracle,  so 
dazzling  and  so  inexplicable  does  this  cifect  ajjpear. 

When  the  moon  is  at  its  full  and  shines  free  from 
clouds,  at  about  midniglit,  in  the  opaline  light,  St. 
Isaac's  assumes  ashen,  silvery,  bluish,  violet  tints  of 
unimaginable  delicacy ;  the  roseate  shades  of  the  granite 
pass  into  hortensia ;  the  bronze  draperies  of  the  statues 
grow  white  as  linen  vestments ;  the  gilded  coifs  of  the 
boll-towers  have  the  reflections,  the  transparencies,  and 
the  faint  wliite  tints  of  amber;  and  the  threads  of  snow 
along  the  cornices  flash  here  and  there  like  spangles. 
The  planet,  in  the  depth  of  this  Northern  sky,  blue  and 
cold  as  steel,  sees  reflected  its  silver  face  in  the  golden 
min-or  of  the  dome,  and  the  light  that  shines  therefrom 
suggests  the  electrnm  of  the  ancients, — gold  and  silver 
melted  into  one. 

Sometimes  those  fairies  of  the  ISTortli,  whose  presence 
makes  amends  for  the  length  of  her  icy  nights,  unfold 
their  splendors  above  the  cathedral.  From  behind  the 
sombre  silhouette  of  the  vast  edifice,  the  Aurora  JBo- 
realis  displays  its  polar  pyrotechnics.  The  bouquet  of 
fusees,  effluvia,  irradiations  and  pliosphorescent  bands, 
unfolds  itself  with  a  radiance  by  turns  silvery,  pearly, 
opalescent,  rose-color, — extinguishing  the  stars,  and 
making  this  ever-luminous  cupola  seem  black,  save  the 
one  brilliant  point,  the  golden  lamp  of  the  sanctuary 
which  nothing  can  eclipse. 

I  have  souglit  to  paint  St.  Isaac's  in  the  days  and 
nights  of  winter.  The  summer  is  no  less  rich  in  novel 
and  admirable  effects. 

In  tliosc  immense  days  which  are  scarcely  interrupted 
by  an  hour  of  diaphanous  night, — at  once  the  twilight 
of  evening  and  of  dawn, — St.  Isaac's,  flooded  with  light, 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  207 

stands  revealed  in  all  the  stately  clearness  befittinp^  a 
classic;  temple.  All  illusions  have  disappeared,  and  the 
superb  reality  is  distinctly  seen;  even  when  the  transpa- 
"  rent  shadow  wraps  the  city,  the  snn  still  shines  upon 
the  colossal  dome.  'From  the  horizon  where  it  dips  to 
enieri!;e  almost  immediately,  its  ra^^s  always  reach  the 
p:il(led  cupola.  In  the  same  way  in  the  mountains,  the 
highest  peaks  yet  flame  in  the  sunset,  when  the  lower 
summits  and  the  valleys  have  been  for  a  long  time  hid- 
den under  the  mists  of  evening.  There,  however,  the 
liglit  at  last  steals  away  from  the  crimsoned  aiguille 
and  S(!eni3  to  return,  reluctant,  into  heaven  ;  while  here, 
the  shining  splendor  never  deserts  the  dome.  Though 
all  the  rest  should  fade  away  in  the  firmament,  one 
star  would  remain  upon  St.  Isaac's  forever. 

Having  now  given,  as  far  as  in  me  lies,  an  idea  of 
the  exterior  of  the  catliedral  nnder  its  different  aspects, 
I  will  endeavor  to  describe  the  interior,  which  is  not 
less  magnificent. 

The  "usual  entrance  is  on  tlie  southern  side  of  the 
building,  l)ut  let  us  try  to  find  open  the  western  door, 
which  is  opposite  the  iconostase,  for  this  gives  the  finest 
effect.  As  j^ou  enter,  you  are  overpowered  witli  amaze- 
ment, the  colossal  grandeur  of  the  architecture,  the 
profusion  of  the  rarest  marbles,  the  brilliancy  of  tlie 
gildijig,  the  color  in  the  frescos,  the  polished  pavement 
like  a'mirror  in  which  all  objects  are  reflected,  unite  in 
an  effect  absolutely  dazzling,  especially  if  your  attention 
is  directed,  as  it  must  be,  towards  the  side  where  stands 
the  iconostase, — ic  )n;)sta3e,  a  marvellous  edifice,  a  tem- 
ple within  a  temj^le,  a  fa9ade  of  gold,  malachite  and 
lapis-lazuli,  with  doors  of  solid  silver  ;  but  which  is 
after  all,  only  the  veil  of  the  sanctuary.  Thither  the 
eye  turns  invincibly,  whether  the  open  doors  reveal  in 
dazzling  transparency  the  colossal  Christ  painted  on 
glass,  or,  whether,  closed,  they  only  show  the  crimson 
curtain  whose  color  seems  dyed  in  the  Divine  blood. 

The  interior  plan  of  the  edifice  is  marked  by  a  simplic- 


208  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ity  ^rliich  tlie  e3'e  and  the  mind  comprehend  at  once : 
three  naves,  terminating  at  the  three  doors  of  the  iconos- 
tase,  cut  transversely  hy  the  nave  which  represents,  within 
the  building,  the  arms  of  the  cross  externally  indicated 
by  the  projection  of  the  ])orticos  ;  at  the  point  of  inter- 
section, the  cupola;  and  at  the  angles,  four  lesser  domes 
completing  the  symmetry,  and  marking  the  architectui-al 
rhytlun.  Upon  a  substratum  of  marble  rest  the  fluted 
columns  and  pilasters  of  the  Corinthian  ordei-,  with  bases 
and  capitals  of  bronze,  which  decorate  the  interior  of  the 
edifice.  Thc}^  are  surmounted  by  an  attic  cut  l)y  pilas- 
ters, foruiing  panels  which  contain  frescos.  Upon  this 
attic  rest  the  archivolts,  whose  panels  are  also  adorned 
Vvrith  religious  subjects. 

The  walls  in  the  spaces  between  tlie  columns  and 
pila-ters,  from  sub-structure  to  cornice,  are  lined  with 
white  marble,  whereon  are  outlined  panels  and  compart- 
ments of  the  green  marble  of  Genoa,  of  griotte,  of 
yellow  Sienna  marble,  of  variegated  jaspers,  of  red  Fin- 
land porphyries — in  a  word,  everything  beautiful  which 
the  richest  quarries  could  sup'ply.  "Recessed  niches 
supported  by  consoles  contain  paintings,  and  agreeably 
interrupt  the  monotony  of  the  level  surface.  The  me- 
tallic o]-naments  of  the  panels  are  in  glided  galvano- 
plastic  bronze,  and  are  detached  v/itli  vigorous"  projec- 
tions fi'om  the  marble  ceiUngs  of  the  recesses.  The 
ninety-six  columns  and  pilasters  are  from  the  quarries 
of  T\idi,  which  furnish  a  beautiful  marble  veined  with 
gray  and  red.  The  white  marl)le.3  come  from  the  quar- 
ries of  Seravezza  which  Michel  Angelo  was  vront  to 
])refer  to  those  of  Carrara.  To  say  this  is  to  say  all— 
for  what  a  connoisseur  in  marble  must  he  have  been 
who  designed  St.  Peter's  and  the  tomb  of  the  Medici ! 

Having  given  in  a  few  lines  this  general  idea  of  tlie 
chnrcli  v.-e  will  come  to  the  dome  which  opens,  over  the 
visitor's  head,  its  gulf  lirmly  hung  in  air,  where  iron, 
bronze,  brick,  granite,  and  marble  combine  their  almost 
inlinite  ])ower  of  resistance  in  accordance  with  the  best 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  200 

calculated  mathematical  laws.  From  the  pavement  to 
the  top  of  the  lantern  is  20G  ft.  8  in.  The  lenf^th  of 
the  building  is  288  ft.  8  in.,  its  l)readth  iuterioi-jy  140 
ft.  8  in.  I  am  not  disposed  to  give  undue  prominence 
to  iigures,  but  here  they  ai-o  necessary  to  show  the  real 
magnitude  of  tlie  edilice,  and  to  help  the  reader  to  un- 
derstand the  relative  proportions  of  the  details. 

Far  up  the  lantern  a  colossal  Dove  spreads  its  wliite 
wings  surrounded  by  golden  rays,  at  an  iunnense  height. 
Lower,  curves  a  demi-cupola  with  golden  ])alni-leaves 
npon  an  azure  field  ;  then  comes  the  great  spheric  vault 
of  the  dome,  bordered  around  its  upper  orifice  l)y  a 
cornice  whose  frieze  is  decorated  with  garlands  and 
angel-heads,  and  at  its  base,  resting  npon  the  entablature 
of  twelve  fluted  Corinthian  jiilasters  which  separate  the 
windows,  also  twelve  in  number.  A  false  balustrade, 
serving  as  a  transition  from  architecture  to  ])ainting 
crowns  this  entablature,  aud,  lighted  by  a  vast  sky,  is 
spread  out  a  grand  composition  representing  the  Tri- 
umph of  the  Virgin. 

This  painting,  as  well  as  all  the  rest  of  the  decoration 
of  the  dome  was  entrusted  to  M.  Brnloff,  known  at 
Paris  by  his  picture  "  The  Last  Day  of  Pompeii,"  whicli 
figured  at  one  of  the  expositions.  M.  Brnloff  deserved 
the  liouor;  but  a  condition  of  illness  terminated  by 
premature  dcatli,  pre\cnted  him  from  executing  this 
important  commission,  lie  was  al)le  only  to  make  the 
cartoons,  and  though  his  idea  and  his  directions  were 
i-eligiously  carried  out,  it  is  impossible  not  to  regret  the 
eye,  the  hand,  aud  the  genius  of  the  master  himself  in 
these  ])aintings,  whose  design  is  certaiidy  admirably 
adapted  to  their  destination.  Doubtless  he  would  have 
been  able  to  give  them  all  that  they  lack;  the  master's 
touch,  color,  fire,  whatever  nnist  bo  added  in  the  execu- 
tion to  the  best  conceived  work,  and  which  even  equal 
talent  realizing  the  thought  of  another  can  never  possi- 
bly su[)|.)ly. 

To  put  some  order  into  my  description,  let  us  imagine 


210  ^  WmrER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ourselves  facing  tlio  icoiiostase :  wo  shall  thus  have  he- 
foi'e  us  the  group  which  is  the  centre  and  in  a  sense  the 
most  ini]iortant  part  of  the  whole  composition.  The 
Virgin  in  the  midst  of  a  halo  sits  enthroned  upon  a 
golden  scat ;  her  eves  cast  down,  lier  hands  clasped 
modestly  upon  her  breast,  she  seems,  even  in  the  skies, 
to  submit  to  this  triumph  rather  than  accept  it,  but  she 
is  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord,  aiiGilla  Domi)ii,  and  she 
resigns  liersclf  to  the  apotheosis. 

On  cither  side  of  the  throne  stand  St.  John  the  Bap- 
tist, the  Fore-runner,  and  St.  John  the  beloved  disciple 
of  Christ,  the  latter  distinguished  hy  the  eagle. 

Above  the  throne  hover  little  angels  with  lilies,  sym- 
bolic of  purity.  Tall  angels  with  wide-spread  Mnngs, 
j^laced  at  intervals  in  the  boldest  postures  of  fore-short- 
ening, suppoi't  the  banks  of  cloud  on  which  stand  these 
groups  which  I  will  describe:  going  from  the  spec- 
tator's left,  and  making  the  circuit  of  the  cupola  till  we 
complete  the  cycle  of  the  composition.  One  of  these 
angels  bears  the  long  sword,  the  attribute  of  St.  Paul, 
who  kneels  above  him  upon  a  cloud  near  St.  Peter,  with 
his  head  turned  toward  the  Virgin;  cherubs  are  open- 
ing the  book  of  the  Epistles  and  are  playing  with  the 
golden  keys  of  Paradise. 

Upon  the  cloud  wliich  floats  above  the  balustrade,  we 
observe  next  to  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  an  old  man  with 
white  beard  in  the  dress  of  a  Byzantine  monk ;  it  is  St. 
Isaac  the  Dalmatian,  the  patron  saint  of  the  Cathedral. 
Near  him  is  St.  Alexander  Newski,  clad  in  cuirass  and 
crimson  mantle  ;  angels  hold  flags  behind  him,  and  the 
image  of  the  Christ  u]:)on  a  golden  disk  indicates  the 
services  rendered  to  religion  by  this  warrior  saint. 

The  next  group  is  composed  of  three  holy  women 
kneeling :  Anna,  the  mother  of  the  Vii-gin,  Elizabeth, 
the  motlier  of  the  Fore-runner,  and  Catherine,  who  is 
sumptuously  attired  with  mantle  of  ermine  and  bro- 
caded dress,  and  a  crown  on  her  head  ; — not  that  she 
belongs  to  a  royal  or  princely  house,  but  because  she 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  211 

unites  tho  tiii)]e  crown  of  virginity,  martyrdom,  and 
Icarninp;,  for  which  reason  her  original  name  of  Doro- 
thea i;5  cJianged  into  Catherine,  whose  Syriac  root  Ce- 
thar  means  crown.  This  hixury,  therefore,  is  entirely 
allegorical.  The  angel  who  stands  beneath  this  cloud 
bears  a  fragment  of  a  "wheel  with  teeth  bent  backward, 
the  instrument  of  St.  Catherine's  martyrdom. 

Se])arated  by  a  little  interval  from  the  group  just 
described,  a  third  ck)ud  bears  up  St.  Alexis  "the  man 
in  God,"  clad  in  a  monk's  garment,  and  the  Emperor 
Constantino,  with  golden  cuirass  and  crimson  di-apcry; 
at  his  side  an  angel  holds  the  axe  tied  in  a  bundle  of 
rods  ;  another  angel  standhig  l)ehind  him,  bears  an  an- 
tique sword  in  its  scabbard,  the  insignia  of  command. 

The  last  group  as  we  return  to  the  throne  of  the 
Virgin,  represents  St.  Nicholas  bisliop  of  Mjre  and  pa- 
tron saint  of  Russia, — clad  in  a  dalmatic  and  a  green 
stole  covered  with  golden  crosses, — kneeling  in  adoration 
before  the  I\Iother"of  (rod ;  he  is  surrounded  by  angels 
holding  banners  and  sacred  books. 

The  reader  will  have  noticed  that  these  figures  are  all 
the  patron  sahits  of  Russia  and  of  the  imperial  family. 
The  mystic  idea  of  this  immense  composition  which  is 
not  less  than  228  ft.  in  circuit,  is  the  triumph  of  the 
Clnn-ch,  symbolized  by  the  Virgin. 

The  arrangement  of  this  painting  suggests  slightly 
that  of  the  dome  of  Ste.  Genevieve  by  l^aron  Gros.  I 
do  not  mention  it  as  au}^  reproach  to  M.  IJruloff ;  such 
resemblances  are  inevitable  in  religious  subjects  whose 
leading  features  must  be  determined  in  advance.  Con- 
forming to  the  intention  of  the  arcliitect  with  more  fidel- 
ity than  some  others  of  the  artists  emi)loyed  in  the 
decoration  of  St.  Isaac's  have  done,  M.  Rruloff,  or  those 
who  have  executed  his  phms,  have  held  to  light,  dull 
tones,  avoiding  the  high  cok)r  and  heavy  shadow  which 
is  always  harmful  in  mural  ]>aintiug,  disturbing  as  it 
does  the  great  outlines  of  the  architecture. 

These  paintings,  and  in  fact  all  which  ornament  the 


212  A  WINTER  /_V  RUSSIA. 

cathedral,  even  in  tlie  case  of  their  having  gold  back- 
grounds, do  not  attempt  to  reprodnce  those  formal  and 
rij^id  canonical  outlines  which  belong  to  B^yzantine  art. 
M.  de  Montferrand  judged  wisely  that  the  church  of 
which  he  was  the  archite<;t,  borrowing  as  it  does  its 
forms  from  the  pure  Gi-eek  or  Iloman  style,  the  artists 
charged  with  its  ]>aintings  should  seek  their  inspiration 
from  that  great  Italian  school  whicli  has  ever  shown 
itself  wisest  and  most  expert  in  decorating  edifices  built 
in  this  style.  Hence  the  paintings  of  St.  Isaac's  are  not 
at  all  archaic,  contradicting  in  this  the  customs  of  the 
Russian  church,  which  has  ahv^avs  chosen  to  conform  to 
certain  models  fixed  from  the  earliest  existence  of  the 
Greek  church,  and  preserved  as  a  matter  of  tradition 
by  the  religious  painters  of  Mt.  Athos. 

Twelve  great  angels,  gilded,  serving  as  caryatides,  sup- 
port consoles  on  whicli  rest  the  bases  of  the  pilasters 
whicli  decorate  the  interior  of  tlie  dome,  and  separate 
the  windows  from  each  other.  They  measure  twenty- 
one  feet  in  height,  and  are  executed  bj  the  galvano- 
plastic  process  in  four  pieces,  the  sutures  being  in- 
visible. Thus  it  vv\as  possible  to  make  them  so  light 
that  despite  their  size,  thej  were  not  too  great  a  weight 
upon  the  cupola.  This  crowd  of  golden  angels,  stand- 
ing as  they  do  in  a  flood  of  light,  and  glittering  at  a 
thousand  points  with  the  brilliancy  of  the  precious  metal 
produce  a  very  splendid  effect.  The  figures  are  dis- 
posed according  to  a  certain  definite  arcliitectural  regu- 
larity, but  v/ith  a  variety  of  attributes  and  motion  which 
relieves  them  from  monotonous  uniformity.  Diverse 
attributes,  such  as  books,  pahns,  crosses,  balances, 
crowns,  trumpets,  give  cause  for  slightly  varied  attitudes, 
and  dcsis-nate  the  celestial  functions  of  these  shinin.'>: 
figures. 

The  space  left  vacant  between  the  angels  is  filled  with 
apostles  and  prophets  in  sitting  postures,  each  having 
the  attribute  by  which  he  is  identified.  All  these  fig- 
ures, broadly  draped  and  of  noble  style,  are  relieved 


,ST.  75/1.1^-/9.  213 

against  a  background  of  pale  golden  liglit,  nearly  un- 
varied thronglimit.  The  general  tone  is  ligbt,  resem- 
bling the  fi-e'sco  as  nearly  as  possible. 

The  four  evangelists,  of  colossal  size,  occupy  the  pen- 
dentives.  For  tliesc  ligures  the  artist  has  made  choice  of 
those  proud  and  inipetuc^us  attitudes,  in  which  the  painter 
of  the  Sistiue  chai)el  takes  delight.  The  ])endenti ves,  by 
their  peculiar  shape,  require  tlic  composition  to  be  for- 
cibly adapted  to  them,  and  the  restraint  imposed  by  the 
frame  often  helps  the  inspiration.  These  Evangelists 
are  most  expressive  ligures. 

l]y  the  winged  lion  we  recognize  St.  Mark,  who  in 
one  "hand  holds  his  gospel,  and  with  the  other,  lifted, 
seems  to  preach  or  bestow  a  benediction.  A  circlet  of 
gold  shines  about  his  head,  and  broad  blue  drapery  en- 
folds his  knees. 

St.  John,  clad  in  a  green  tunic  and  a  red  mantle,  is 
writing  upon  a  long  strip  of  papyrus  unrolled  by  two 
angels.  At  his  side,  the  mystic  'eagle  ilaps  his  wings 
and  darts  from  his  eyes  the  liglitnings  of  the  Apocaly]~)se. 
Leaning  against  his  ox,  St.  Luke  regards  attentively 
the  portrait  of  the  Virgin,  the  work  of  his  own  pencil, 
which  angels  arc  preseiiting  to  him.  A  labarum  liv)ats 
above  his'aureole-crowned  head  and  drapery  of  orange- 
red  falls  about  him  in  heavy  folds. 

Beside  St.  Matthew  stands  his  companion  angel. 
The  saint,  in  violet  tunic  and  3-ellow  mantle,  has  in  his 
hand  a  book.  In  the  sombre  sky  which  serves  as  a  back- 
ground to  this  as  well  as  to  the  other  ligures,  are.  hover- 
ing cherubs,  and  a  single  star  sparkles, 

In  the  tops  of  the  pendentives  are  framed  four  pict- 
m'cs  representing  scenes  in  the  Passion  of  Christ.  Ill 
one,  Judas,  going  in  advance  of  the  soldiers  who  carry 
lanterns  and  torciies  gives  the  perildious  kiss  which 
points  out  his  master,  "in  another,  Christ,  standing  be- 
tween two  soldiers  armetl  with  knotted  cords,  is  scourged. 
The  third  shows  us  the  Just  One,  to  whom  the  Jewish 
people  preferred  Uarabbas,  led  away  from  the  judguicnt- 


214  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA, 

seat,  wliile  Pontius  Pilate  washes  liis  hands  of  that  blood 
which  is  to  leave  npon  thein  an  eternal  stain.  Tlie  fourth 
picture  represents  what  the  Italians  call  the  spasimo, 
the  fainting  of  the  Victim  under  the  weight  of  the  cross, 
up(m  the  way  to  Calvary.  The  Virgin,  the  holy  women, 
and  St.  John  attend  the  Divine  Sufferer,  in  attitudes  of 
nnspeakable  woe. 

The  attic  of  the  transverse  nave  represents  the  arm  of 
the  Greek  cross ;  at  the  right,  as  we  face  the  iconostase, 
is  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  of  M.  Pietro  Bassine. 
Upon  tlie  plateau  of  a  hillock,  overhung  by  trees,  Christ, 
seated,  is  preaching,  surrounded  hy  his  disciples ;  the 
crowd  press  about  him  to  listen  ;  paralytics  have  climbed 
np  thither  upon  their  crutches;  the  sick  are  brouglit 
upon  their  beds,  eager  to  hear  the  Divine  words ;  the 
blind  come  groping  ;  v/omen  listen  v/ith  all  their  hearts, 
while  in  a  corner  Pharisees  are  talking  and  disputing ; 
the  arrangement  is  beautiful,  and  the  well  distributed 
groups  leave  to  the  central  lignre  its  due  importance. 

Tlie  two  lateral  paintings  have  for  their  subjects  the 
23arables  of  the  Sower  and  the  Good  Samaritan.  In  tlie 
former  Jesus  is  walking  in  the  iields  with  his  disciples : 
he  points  out  to  them  the  Sower  casting  abroad  his  seed, 
and  the  birds  of  the  air  flying  about  his  liead.  In  the 
latter,  the  Good  Samaritan,  dismounting  from  his  horse, 
pours  oil  upon  the  wounds  of  the  young  man  abandoned 
by  the  roadside,  to  whose  complaint  the  Pharisee  had 
refused  to  listen.  The  flrst  of  these  pictures  is  by  M. 
Nikotine;  the  second,  by  M.  Sasonoff.  In  the  vaulted 
roof,  in  a  panel  surrounded  by  rich  ornaments,  cherubs 
are  holding  up  a  book  against  a  background  of  the  sky. 

Facing  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  at  the  opposite  end 
of  the  nave,  in  the  attic,  is  developed  a  great  painting 
by  M.  Plucliart,  the  Multiphcation  of  the  Loa\cs. 
Jesus  occupies  the  centre,  and  his  disciples  are  distribu- 
ting to  the  hungry  crowd  the  miraculous  loaves  which 
are  constantly  renewed,  symbolizing  the  bread  of  the 
Eucharist,  whereby  are  nourished  all  the  generations  of 


si:  ISAAC'S.  215 

mankind ;  upon  the  two  side  wfills  arc,  tlio  Rctum  of 
the  Prodigal  Son,  and  the  Laborer  of  tlie  Eleventh 
Hour,  whom  the  stewards  would  drive  away,  but  whom 
the  Master  reeeives;  cherulnm  bearing  a  sacred  chalice 
are  represented  in  the  vauhed  ceiling. 

The  central  nave  from  the  transept  to  the  door  is 
decorated  b}-  M.  Bruni.  In  the  great  panel  at  its  ex- 
tremity, Jehovah,  enthroned  npon  a  cloud  and  sur- 
rounded by  archangels,  angels,  and  cherubim  in  a  circle 
symbolizing  eternity,  seems  to  sit  content  with  creation 
and  to  bestow  upon  it  his  benediction.  At  his  word, 
the  infinite  has  been  stirred  to  its  very  depths,  and  from 
nothing  has  arisen  everything. 

With  its  trees,  and  ilovv'ers,and  animals,  the  terrestrial 
Paradise  glows  upon  the  attic  of  this  nave.  TJie  first 
human  pair  are  living  in  peace  amid  the  animal  races, 
whom  sin  and  death,  its  consequence,  shall  later  render 
inimic-al.  As  yet,  the  lion  does  not  tear  the  gazelle,  the 
tiger  does  not  spring  upon  the  horse,  the  elepliant  seems 
ignorant  of  his  own  strength,  and  all  respect  upon  tlie 
brow  of  the  guests  of  Eden,  the  image  of  Grod. 

In  the  vault  delighted  angels  are  represented,  admir- 
ing the  sun  and  moon,  those  great  lamps  just  set  in 
heaven. 

The  panel  of  the  attic  has  for  its  subject  the  Deluge. 
The  waters  poured  forth  in  catai'acts  by  the  abyss  and  by 
the  skies,  have  covered  the  young  world,  so  soon  ])er- 
verted  and  cau.sing  God  to  regret  its  creation.  A  few 
peaks,  which  the  flood  will  soon  cover,  ah^ie  emerge 
from  the  shoreless  sea.  The  last  remnant  of  the  con- 
dennied  race  are  clinging  desperately  to  the  mountain 
sunnnits.  In  the  distance,  amid  the  rain  which  falls  in 
torrents,  floats  the  ark  of  Xoah,  bearing  within  it  all  that 
is  to  survive  of  the  old  creation. 

To  the  Deluge,  upon  the  other  wall,  correSj:-:^'i«ls  The 
Sacrifice  of  Noah.  From  a  primitive  altar  made  of  a 
fragment  of  rock  rises  in  the  serene  air  to  Heaven  the 
bluish   smoke   of  the  accepted  sacrifice ;  the  patriarch, 


216  A  WINTER  m  nUSSTA. 

standino^,  with  liis  giant  figure  of  the  antedihiviaii,  towers 
above  his  sons  and  their  wives,  prostrated  upon  the 
ground  around  him. 

In  the  back-groimd,  upon  a  curtain  of  vanishing 
clouds  the  rainbow  bends  its  colored  bow,  sign  of  the 
promise  that  the  waters  shall  not  again  cover  the  earth, 
sheltered  henceforth,  until  tlie  Last  Judgment. 

Further  on,  the  Vision  of  Ezekiel  covers  a  great  space 
of  tlie  vault.  Standing  upon  a  fragment  of  rock,  under 
a  sky  lit  by  red  flames,  in  the  midst  of  a  valley  of  Jehoso- 
phat  whose  dead  population  are  awakening  to  life  like 
the  grain  in  the  furrow,  the  prophet  gazes  upon  the 
frightful  scene  which  unrolls  before  him  :  at  the  call  of 
the  angel's  trumpet,  the  phantoms  arise  in  tlieir  shrouds; 
skeletons  drag  themselves  along  with  iloshless  fingers, 
and  adjust  their  scattered  bones ;  the  dead  look  forth 
from  their  sepulchres,  filled  with  horror  and  remorse. 
These  larvae,  who  were  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth, 
seem  to  beg  for  mercy,  and  to  regret  the  night  of  the 
tomb,  save  a  few  righteous  ones  full  of  hope  in  the  Di- 
vine goodness,  and  not  alarmed  by  the  a\vful  gesture  of 
the  prophet. 

There  is  great  power  in  imagination,  and  a  magiste- 
rial vigor  of  style  in  this  painting,  which  is  of  great  size  ; 
the  study  of  the  Sistine  frescos  is  apparent  in  it.  Its 
coloring  is  strong  and  sober,  and  of  that  historic  tone, 
the  noble  garment  of  thought,  which  modern  artists  are 
so  disposed  to  abandon  for  a  fatiguing  brilliancy  of  ef- 
fect and  a  trivial  fidelity  of  detail,  out  of  place  in  great 
decorative  painting. 

At  the  end  of  the  same  nave,  in  the  vault  of  the  icono- 
stase,  M.  Bruni  has  painted  the  Last  Judgment,  of 
which  Ezekiel's  Vision  is  but  the  prophecy.  A  colossal 
Christ,  twice,  or  possibly  three  times  the  size  of  the 
other  figures,  is  standing  before  the  cloud-built  steps 
of  Ilis  throne;  I  higlily  approve  of  this  Byzantine  fash- 
ion of  makiiig  the  divine  and  principal  figure  predomi- 
nate in  this  visible  manner ;  it  strikes  at  once  the  cul- 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  217 

tiired  and  the  uncultured  imagination,  the  former  bj  tlio 
ideal,  the  latter  by  the  material  side.  The  ages  are  at 
an  end  ;  time  is  no  longer,  all  is  now  eternal, — reward 
and  chastisement.  Overthrown  by  the  angel's  breath, 
the  old  skeleton  falls  to  dust ;  his  scythe  broken.  Death, 
in  his  turn,  is  dead. 

At  the  right  of  the  iigure  of  Chi'ist,  are  thronging 
upward  crowds  of  the  blessed,  ^vith  pure  and  slender 
forms, — long,  chaste  di-apery, — faces  radiant  with  beauty, 
love,  and  ecstacy,  and  are  fraternally  received  by  the 
angels.  At  Ilis  left,  repulsed  by  stern  and  pitiless  angels 
with  flaming  swords  and  strong  wings,  whirl  downwards, 
in  the  impetuosit}'  of  their  fall,  those  accursed  groups 
■wht'T'oiu  are  recognized  with  their  hideous  shapes  all  the 
evil  tendeiuues  which  drag  nuui  into  the  abyss :  Envy, 
whose  locks  scourge  the  meagre  temples  like  knotted 
serpents, — Avarice,  sordid, angular,  and  contracted, — Im- 
l)iety,  casting  toward  the  skj-  its  look  of  powerless  men- 
ace ; — all  these  guilty  ones,  weighed  down  by  their  sins, 
plunge  into  the  gulf,  where  crisped  hands  of  demons 
whose  bodies  are  not  visible,  avv-alt  them  to  tear  them, 
vrith  their  eternal  tortures ;  these  hands,  knotty  and  claw- 
like, resembling  the  iron  combs  of  executioners,  are 
highly  poetic,  and  produce  the  most  tragic  horror.  It 
is  an  idea  worthy  of  Michel  Angelo  or  Dante.  These 
hands,  which  I  saw  upon  the  cartoon,  I  sought  vainly  in 
the  fresco.  The  projection  of  the  cornice  and  the  curve 
of  the  sombre  vault  in  this  corner  probably  })revent  them 
from  being  seen. 

By  these  rapid  descriptions,  necessarily  subordinated 
to  the  general  survey  of  the  church,  it  will  be  seen  how 
im]x>rtant  a  share  M.  IJruni  had  in  the  decoration  of  St. 
Isaac's.  It  is  to  be  desired  that  we  should  have  engrav- 
ings or  photogra]>lis  of  the  works  of  this  remarkal)le  ar- 
tist, who  eertaiidy  has  not  had  the  celebrity  he  deserves. 
These  compositions,  with  their  great  number  of  figures 
three  or  four  times  the  natural  size,  cover  innnense  sur- 
faces, and  there  are  few  modern  painters  who  have  had 
10 


218  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

occasion  to  execute  anything  comparable  to  them.  N^or 
are  the  hibors  of  this  artist  limited  here ;  in  the  sanctu- 
ary itself  are  several  pictures  of  his  which  I  shall  men- 
tion later. 

In  the  two  ends  of  the  transversal  nave,  whose  centre 
is  occupied  by  M.  Bruni's  Last  Judgment,  are  paintings 
which  have  not  sufticient  light  to  be  fairly  seen.  They 
are  as  follows  :  The  Resurrection  of  Lazarus  ;  Mary  at 
the  feet  of  Christ ;  Jesus  healing  the  Man  possessed  of 
Devils  ;  the  Marriage  at  Cana;  Christ  saving  St.  Peter 
upon  the  Sea  ;  these  are  all  by  M.  Schebonief,  and  oc- 
cupy one  half  the  nave.  The  other  side  has  the  follow- 
ing: Jesus  raising-  the  Widow's  Son  and  Jesus  Christ 
calling  the  Children,  by  M.  Scliebonief ;  the  Healing  of 
the  Paralytic ;  the  Repentant  Woman  ;  and  the  Restor- 
ing of  Sight  to  the  Blind,  by  M.  Alexrieff. 

Another  transversal  nave — for  the  church  which  pre- 
sents three  in  its  length,  has  live  in  its  breadth — contains 
the  following  ])aintings  by  different  artists :  Joseph  re- 
ceiving his  Brethren  in  Egypt ;  Jacob  on  his  Death-bed, 
surrounded  by  his  Sons;  the  Sacrifice  of  Aaron;  the 
Arrival  of  Joshua  in  the  Promised  Land  ;  and  the  Fleece 
found  by  Gideon.  These  upon  one  side  ;  the  other  con- 
tains :  the  Passage  of  the  Red  Sea  ;  Moses  saved  from 
the  River  ;  the  Burning  Bush  ;  Moses  and  Aaron  l)ef  ore 
Pharac^h  ;  Miriam  praising  God  ;  Jehovah  delivering  the 
Tables  of  the  Law  to  Moses  ;  and  Moses  dictating  his  last 
Commands. 

At  each  extremity  of  the  lateral  naves  at  the  right 
and  left  of  the  door  rises  a  cupola.  In  the  first,  M.  Riss 
has  represented,  in  the  vault,  the  apotheosis  of  Saint 
Fevronius,  surrounded  by  angels  bearing  palms,  and 
also  instruments  of  torture,  torches,  faggots,  and  swords  ; 
in  the  pendentives,  upon  a  gold  background  imitating 
mosaic,  the  prophets  llosea,  Joel,  llaggai,  and  Zachariah  : 
in  the  recesses  of  the  arches,  historic  and  religious  sub- 
jects, among  others  Menine  and  Poyarsky,  names  at  which 
every  Russian  heart  thrills  with  patriotism,     I  may  be 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  219 

permitted  to  devote  n  few  lines  to  tliis  picture,  ofwhicli 
merely  to  ainiounce  tlio  subject  is  not  sutHcient,  as  it 
wonld  be  in  [)ictures  Avliose  themes  are  drawn  from  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  and  lience  familar  to  all  Christian  read- 
ers, whatever  be  the  communion  to  which  they  belon<^. 

The  kniaz  Poyarsky,  and  the  nnijik  Menine  ha\e  re- 
solved to  save  the  country,  menaced  by  a  Polish  invasion. 
They  are  advancing  at  the  head  of  their  troops.  The 
noblesse  and  the  people  act  together,  in  the  p-ei-sons  of 
these  two  heroes,  who,  wishing  to  place  their  enterprise 
under  the  protection  of  God,  cause  to  be  borne  bef(;re 
them  by  the  clergy,  the  sacred  picture  of  Our  Lady  of 
Kazan,  on  which  falls,  in  sign  of  Divine  approval,  a 
celestial  radiance.  As  the  procession  passes,  men,  women, 
children,  old  people,  men  of  every  age  and  station,  fall 
prostrate  upon  the  snow.  In  the  background  are 
palisades,  and  the  crenellated  wall  of  the  Kremlin  with 
its  towers. 

Tlie  second  recess  shows  us  Dmitri-Douskoi",  kneeling 
at  the  door  of  a  convent,  and  receiving  the  benedictioli 
of  Saint  Scrgius  of  Kodonej,  who  is  coming  forth  sur- 
rounded by  his  monks,  l)efore  the  dejiarture  "of  the  liei-o 
to  his  victorious  encounter  with  the  Tartar  hordes  under 
Mimai. 

The  third  painting  has  for  its  subject  Ivan  HI. 
showing  to  St,  Peter  the  metropolitan,  the  plan  of  the 
Cathedral  of  the  Assumption  at  Moscow.  The  holy  per- 
sona^^e  a])pear3  to  approve  of  them,  and  to  invoke  the 
blessing  of  Heaven  upon  the  ])ious  founder. 

A  council  of  apostles,  upon  whom  descends  the  Holy 
Spirit,  tills  the  fourth  vault. 

In  tlie  cupola  corresponding  to  this  are  the  following 
paintings,  all  from  the  hand  of  M.  Kiss  :  in  the  top,  the 
Apotheosis  of  St.  Isaac  the  Dalmatian  ;  upon  the  pcnden- 
tives,  Jonah,  Nahum,IIal)akkuk,  Zephaniah.  The  recesses 
formed  by  the  arches  are  tilled  with  subjects  rehxting  to 
the  introduction  of  Christianity  into  Russia:  Proposal 
made  to  Vladimir  to  adopt  the  Chi-istian  faith ;  Baptism 


220  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

of  Vladimir  ;  Baptism  of  tlio  Inhabitants  of  Kief  ;  An- 
nonncemeutof  the  Adoption  of  Chiistianity  by  Vladimir. 
These  cupolas  are  of  the  Ionic  order. 

All  these  paintings,  skilfully  composed,  are,  however, 
a  little  too  mnch  like  historical  pictures.  The  artist, 
fond  of  effect,  has  not  been  sufficiently  mindful  of  tlie 
conditions  of  mural  painting.  Scenes  which  are  framed 
in  arches  or  in  architectural  divisions,  require  to  be  tran- 
cpiillized  rather  than  dramatized,  and  to  resemble  the 
polycln-omatlc  bas-relief.  When  he  works  in  a  church 
or  m  a  palace,  the  painter,  ought  to  be,  first  of  all,  a  dec- 
orator, and  to  sacrifice  his  own  personal  preferences  to 
the  general  effect  of  the  building.  His  work  ought  to 
be  so  united  tlierewith  that  it  could  not  be  detached. 
The  great  Italian  masters  in  their  frescos,  which  are  so 
different  from  their  pictures,  have  shown  a  thorough  con- 
prehension  of  this  particular  side  of  art. 

I  do  not  address  this  reproach  especially  to  M.  Riss; 
in  different  degrees  it  is  merited  by  most  of  the  artists 
employed  in  painting  in  St.  Isaac's,  who  have  not 
always  made  the  sacrifices  required  by  their  peculiar 
works. 

The  piers  against  which  the  columns  and  pilasters 
rest  are  decorated  as  well  as  the  walls  with  subjects  ex- 
ecuted by  different  artists,  in  niclies,  having  consoles 
bearing  inscriptions.  In  these  niches  are  pictures  by 
M.  Ne?f,  whicli  arc  fine  in  color  and  sentiment,  and  may 
be  ranked  among  the  most  satisfactory  in  the  church. 
They  are :  the  Ascension ;  Jesus  Christ  sending  His 
Picture  to  Abgarus;  tlie  Lifting  of  the  Cross;  the  Birth 
of  the  Virgin';  the  Presentation  ia  the  Temple;  the 
Intercession  of  the  Virgin,  and  the  Descent  of  the  Holy- 
Spirit.  Also,  others  by"M.  Steuben,  and  by  M.  Mussini, 
the  subjects  drawn  from  Scripture  and  from  tradition. 

All  the  paintings  in  St.  Isaac's  are  in  oils,  distemper 
being  unsuited  to  humid  countries  ;  besides  this,  its 
much-vaunted  durability  has  failed  to  resist  the  action 
of  two  or  three  centuries,  as  is  only  too  well  proved  by 


ST.   ISAAC'S.  221 

the  more  or  less  advanced  state  of  deterioration  in 
wliicli  we  find  those  masterpieces  which  their  autliors 
believed  sure  ol:  eternal  preservation  and  unfad in 2:  fresh- 
ness. Thei-e  remained  encaustic  painting  ;  but  its  hand- 
ling is  dithcult,  unfamiliar,  and  infrequent.  Tlie  wax, 
besides,  assumes  in  highly  wrought  portions  an  objection- 
able lustre  ;  and  furthermore,  too  short  a  time  has  passed 
over  attempts  in  this  method  of  painting  for  ns  to  have 
other  than  theoretic  assurance  of  its  durabilit}'.  It  was, 
then,  with  good  reason  that  M.  de  Montferrand  made 
choice  of  oil  for  the  paintings  of  St.  Isaac's. 

We  now  come  to  the  iconostaso,  that  wall  of  sacred 
pictures  set  in  gold,  which  conceals  the  arcana  of  the 
sanctuary.  Those  who  have  seen  the  gigantic  screens 
in  Spanisli  churches  can  form  an  idea  of  the  importance 
bestowed  by  the  Greek  religion  npon  this  part  of  the 
sacred  edifice. 

The  architect  has  carried  his  iconostase  to  the  heiglit 
of  tiic  attics,  so  that  it  forms  part  of  the  arcliitcctural 
order  and  suits  well  the  colossal  proportions  of  the  build- 
ing, of  which  it  tills  the  whole  breadth,  from  one  wall  to 
the  other.  It  is,  as  I  have  said-,  the  fa9ade  of  a  temple 
within  a  temple  ! 

TJu-eo  stops  of  red  prophyry  form  the  base.  A  balus- 
trade of  whita  marble  with  gilded  balusters  orna- 
mented with  precious  marbles,  traces  the  line  of  demar- 
cation between  the  ]n-iest  and  the  worship[)ers.  The 
tinest  marlde  of  tlie  Italian  quarries  serves  as  the  origi- 
nal material  of  which  the  wall  of  the  iconostase  is  com- 
posed, and  this  wall,  though  elsewhere  it  would  be  it- 
self superb,  is  nearly  concealed  from  sight  by  the  splen- 
did ornaments  which  cover  it. 

Eiglit  columns  of  malacliite,  of  the  Corinthian  order, 
tinted,  with  bases  and  ca])itals  of  gilded  bronze,  and  two 
pilasters,  compose  the  fa9ade  and  support  the  attic.  The 
tone  of  the  malachite  with  its  metallic  lustre,  its  green, 
coppery  sliades,  strange  and  charming  to  the  eye,  its 
[»olisli  perfect  like  that  of  a  gem,  surprises  by  its  beauty 


222  ^   WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

and  magnificence.  At  first  sip;lit  3^on  hesitate  to  believe 
that  it  is  real,  for  we  know  that  malachite  is  nsed  only 
for  tables,  vases,  caslvcts,  bracelets,  and  other  personal 
ornaments,  while  these  columns  and  pilasters  are  forty- 
two  feet  in  heipjht.  Sawn  in  the  block  by  circular  saws 
invented  for  the  purpose,  the  plating  of  malachite  is 
fitted  over  a  copper  drum  with  such  perfection  that  3'ou 
can  scarcely  believe  that  it  is  merely  a  plating,  while 
within  the  co]3per  an  iron  cylinder,  cast  solid,  bears  up 
the  weight  of  the  superposed  attic. 

The  iconostase  is  pierced  by  three  doors  ;  that  in  the 
centre  gives  access  to  the  sanctuary  ;  the  two  others,  to 
the  chapels  of  St.  Catherine  and  Saint  Alexander  New- 
sky.  The  order  is  thus  distributed:  in  the  corner  a  pil- 
aster, and  one  colunm  ;  then  the  door  of  a  chapel ;  then 
three  columns  and  the  principal  door;  three  more  col- 
umns, chapel  door,  a  column,  and  a  pilaster. 

These  columns  and  pilasters  divide  the  wall  into 
spaces  forming  frames  which  are  filled  with  pictures 
upon  gold  backgrounds  imitating  mosaics,  and  to  be  re- 
placed by  veritable  mosaics  as  soon  as  the  latter  are 
completed.  Between  the  base  and  cornice  there  are 
two  stories  of  frames  separated  by  a  secondary  cornice 
which  the  columns  interrupt,  and  which  rests  at  the 
middle  door  upon  two  colonnettes  of  lapis-lazuli,  and,  at 
the  doors  of  the  chapels,  upon  pilasters  of  white  statu- 
ary marl3le.  Above  is  an  attic,  cut  by  pilasters,  and 
decorated  with  porphyry,  jasper,  agate,  malachite,  and 
other  ])recious  materials  found  in  Russia,  and  also  with 
ornaments  of  gilded  bronze  of  a  richness  and  splendor 
surpassed  by  no  church-screens  in  Italy  or  Spain.  The 
pilasters  parallel  to  the  columns  also  mark  off  com- 
partments containing  paintings  on  gold  backgrounds. 

A  fourth  stor}^,  like  a  pediment,  rises  above  the  line 
of  tlie  attic,  and  terminates  in  a  great  golden  group  of 
angels  in  adoration  befoi'c  the  cross,  by  Vitali ;  one  an- 
gel kneeling  alone  on  either  side.  In  the  midst  of  the 
pediment,  a  painting,  by  M.  Givago,  represents  Christ 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  223 

in  the  giardcn,  acccptinji;  the  hitter  cup  in  tliat  sad  watch 
when  all  His  dearest  disciples  had  fallen  asleep. 

Innnediately  under  this,  two  (j^reat  angels  in  full  re- 
lief, holding  sacred  chalices,  their  wings  silvery  and 
l>alpitating,  their  tunics  puffed  out  ])y  the  air,  acconi- 
])anied  h}^  little  angels  in  a  lower  relief,  which  recedes 
insensibly  into  the  wall,  arc  placed  at  either  side  of  a 
]>anel  of  greater  size,  representing  the  Last  Supper, 
])artly  in  painting,  partly  in  bas-relief.  The  figures  are 
])ainted;  the  background,  wdiich  is  gilded,  represents, 
Avith  skilfully  retreating  distances  the  hall  wherein 
took  place  the  paschal  love-feast.  This  painting  is  also 
by  M.  Givago. 

Above  the  arch  of  the  d<M)r,  which  is  decorated  by  a 
semi-circular  inscription  in  Slavonic  characters,  rises  a 
group  thus  disposed :  in  the  centre,  the  Christ, — "  priest 
forever  after  the  order  of  Melchisedek," — throned 
upon  a  richly  decorated  seat.  lie  holds  in  one  hand 
the  round  world,  represented  by  a  globe  of  lapis-lazuli ; 
and  vv'ith  the  other  makes  the  gesture  of  benediction. 
An  aureole  surrounds  his  head ;  his  garments  are 
golden.  Behind  his  throne  is  a  crowd  of  angels;  at  his 
feet  lie  the  winged  lion  and  the  symbolic  ox.  At  his 
right  kneels  the  Holy  Virgin  ;  at  his  left,  St.  John  the 
Precursor. 

This  group  which  cuts  away  the  cornice  presents  a 
remarkable  peculiarity  :  the  iigures  are  statues  with  the 
exception  of  the  head  and  hando,  which  ai-e  jminted  on 
a  plate  of  silver  or  other  metal,  cut  of  suitable  shape. 
This  union  of  the  Byzantine  icon  with  sculpture  pro- 
duces an  effect  of  remarkable  power,  and  an  attentive 
examination  is  required  to  discover  that  the  under  por- 
tions are  not  in  relief.  The  gilded  reliefs  were  modelled 
by  M.  Klodt;  the  Hat  surfaces  ])ainted  by  M,  von  Neft'. 

To  this  central  subject  are  attached  by  an  insensible 
transition  patriarchs,  apostles,  kings,  saints,  martyrs,  a 
crowd  of  the  devout,  who  form  the  coui-t  and  army  of 
Christ,  and  whose  grou[)S  1111  the  spaces  of  the  ai'chivolt. 


224  A  WINTER  IN  RUS8IA. 

These  fignrea  are  merely  painted  on  golden  baek- 
gr<  )Uiids. 

The  arches  of  the  two  side  doors  have  for  ornament 
the  tables  of  the  law,  and  a  chalice  surrounded  by  rays, 
in  marble  and  gold,  accompanied  l)y  little  painted  an- 
gels. 

When  the  sacred  door  which  occupies  tlie  centre  of 
this  immense  fayade  of  gold  and  silver,  lapis-lazuli,  mal- 
achite, jasper,  porpliyry,  and  agate,  a  giant  jev\'el-box  of 
all  the  wealth  that  human  magnificence,  deterred  by  no 
expense,  can  gather,  closes  mysteriously  its  leaves  of  sil- 
ver-gilt, chiselled,  sunk,  wrought  in  waving  i>atterns, 
and  not  less  than  thirty-five  feet  in  height  by  fourteen 
in  breadth,  you  can  perceive  amid  the  glitter,  pictures, 
in  frames  of  wrought  leafage  the  most  marvellous  that 
ever  surrounded  work  of  pencil,  representing  the  four 
Evangelists  in  half-length,  and,  in  full  length,  the  angel 
Gabriel  and  the  Virgin  Mary. 

But  when,  during  the  service,  the  sacred  door  opens 
its  broad  leaves,  a  colossal  Christ,  forming  the  window 
opposite,  at  the  back  of  the  sanctuary,  appears  in  gold 
and  purple,  raising  his  right  hand  in  benediction,  in  an 
attitude  where  modern  skill  is  united  to  the  stately  By- 
zantine tradition.  There  is  nothing  more  beautiful  and 
more  splendid  than  this  fig;ii-e,  revealed  in  strong  light 
as  in  a  sky  upon  which  opens  the  arched  doorway  of 
the  iconostase.  The  mysterious  darkness  which  reigns 
in  the  church  at  certain  hours  augments  still  further  the 
brilliancy  and  the  transparency  of  this  superb  window, 
which  was  painted  at  Munich. 

I  have  thus  indicated  the  principal  divisions ;  1  will 
now  describe  the  ligures  contained  in  them,  beginning 
with  that  file  of  the  first  I'ow  wliich  is  at  the  riglit  of 
the  Bi)octator  as  ho  stands  facing  the  iconostase. 

We  have  first  the  figure  of  Christ  upon  his  throne  of 
Byzantine  architectu)-e,  holding  the  globe  and  extend- 
ing his  hand  in  benediction  ;  then  St,  Isaac  the  Dalma- 
tian, unrolling  the  plan  of  the  cathedral.      These  t\vo 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  225 

figures  arc  cxocnted  in  mosaic  iiiwii  backgi-onnds  of 
little  cubes  of  crystal  lined  with  ducat  gold,  with  the 
same  warm,  rich  effect  so  admired  in  the  St.  Sophia  at 
Constantinople,  and  St.  Mark's  at  Venice.  A  painting 
of  precious  stones  must  needs  have  a  field  of  gold. 

St.  Nicolas,  bishop  of  Myra,  and  patron  saint  of  Rus- 
sia, iu  brocade  dalmatic,  with  lifted  hand,  and  holding 
a  book,  occupies  the  third  panel.  St.  Peter,  sepai'ated 
from  St.  Kicolas  by  the  door  of  the  lateral  chapel,  ter- 
minates the  row.     All  these  figures  are  by  M.  von  ]!S[eff. 

Going  from  the  group  of  Jesus  Christ  iu  His  Glory 
surrounded  by  llis  Elect,  the  first  figure  upon  the  second 
row  is  St.  Michael  combating  the  Dragon  ;  then  follow, 
in  one  panel,  St.  Anne  and  St.  Elizabeth.  The  last 
compartment  contains  Constantine  the  Great,  and  the 
Empress  Helena  clad  in  purple  and  gold.  This  row  is 
by  M.  Theodore  Bruloff. 

In  the  attic,  follo^\■  ing  the  same  order,  are  the  prophet 
Isaiah,  v/hose  extended  finger  seems  to  pierce  the  mists 
of  futurity  ;  Jeremiah  with  the  roll,  wherein  are  in- 
scribed his  lamentations  ;  David  leaning  upon  his  harp; 
Noah,  designated  by  the  rain-bow ;  finally  Adam,  the 
father  of  men,  painted  b}'  M.  Givago, 

At  the  left  of  the  sacred  door,  the  Virgin,  with  her 
child  upon  her  knees,  comes  first,  corresponding  with 
the  Christ  on  the  other  side.  This  picture  is  already 
executed  in  mosaic,  as  well  as  the  neighboring  panel, 
rcpi'csonting  St.  Alexander  Newsky  in  costume  of  war, 
with  l)uckler  and  banner  of  the  faith,  whereon  is  rep- 
resented the  image  of  Christ.  Next  to  St.  Alexander 
Newsky  stands  St.  Catherine,  a  crown  on  her  head  and 
a  palm-branch  in  her  hand,  having  at  her  side  the  wheel 
which  designates  the  mode  of  her  martyrdom  ;  beyond 
the  chapel  is  St  Paul,  who  leans  upon  his  sword.  All 
this  row  is  the  work  of  M.  von  Neff. 

In  the  second  row  are:  St.  Nicholas, in  frock  of  drug- 
get; St.  Magdalen  and  the  Czarina   Alexandra  in  tlio 
same  panel — the  one  indicated  by  the  vase  of  ])erf unie, 
10* 


22G  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

the  otlier  by  the  crown,  the  sword,  and  palm  ;  St.  Vlad- 
imir and  St.  Olga,  indicated  by  their  im}3erial  garments 
— all  being  painted  by  M.  Theodore  Bruloff. 

In  the  third,  the  figures  succeed  one  another  in  the 
following  order:  Daniel,  witli  a  lion  lying  near  him; 
Khig  Solomon,  bearing  a  model  of  the  Temple  ;  Mcl- 
chisedek,  king  of  Salem,  presenting  the  sacrificial  bread  ; 
and  lastly,  the  patriarch  Abraham — all  by  M.  Givago. 

Tins  rampart  of  figures,  separated  by  columns  of 
malachite,  compartments  of  precious  marbles,  and  richly 
ornamented  cornices,  produces,  in  the  mysterious  half- 
light  that  fills  this  part  of  the  cathedral,  a  magnificent 
and  imposing  effect.-  Sometimes  a  ray  of  light  causes 
backgrounds  of  yellow  gold  to  glitter ;  a  ])lating 
gleams,  and  cuts  out  sliarply,  as  if  it  were  a  real  figure, 
the  saint  who  is  depicted  thereon ;  or,  n.  net-work  of 
light  slips  down  the  fiutings  of  the  malachite ;  a 
spangle  clings  here  or  there  to  a  gilded  capital ;  a  wreath 
is  lighted  up  and  brought  out  sharpl}-  in  relief.  The 
painted  heads  of  the  golden  group  assume  a  strange 
life,  and  remind  one  of  those  miraculous  pictures  which 
are  said  to  gaze  at  you,  to  speak,  and  shed  tears.  Some- 
times the  lighting  up  of  candles  throws  unexpected  ra- 
diance upon  details  hitherto  in  the  dark,  and  suddenly 
brings  out  all  their  value.  According  to  the  hour  of 
the  day,  the  veil  of  the  sanctuary  darkens  or  grows 
brilliant,  with  warm,  deep  shadows,  or  with  flashes  of 
splendid  light. 

At  the  left  of  the  iconostase,  as  you  stand  facing  it, 
is  the  chapel  consecrated  to  St.  Catherine  ;  on  the  right, 
that  of  Alexander  Newsky,  both  of  wliich  are  deco- 
rated with  extreme  richness,  and  in  perfect  harmony 
with  the  decoration  of  the  main  portion  of  the  building. 
The  iconostase  in  each  is  composed  of  white  statuarj'' 
marble,  incrusted  with  malachite,  and  decorated  with 
ornaments  of  gilded  bronze,  and  bears  upon  its  summit 
sculptured  groups  gilded,  —  that  of  St.  Catherine's 
chapel  representing    Christ  springing  from   the  tomb 


8T.  ISAAC'S.  227 

amid  the  affrighted  guards;  that  of  St.  Alexander's 
chapel  re])resentiiig  Jesus  upon  Mount  Tabor. 

Above  St.  Catherine's  chapel  rises  a  cupola  whose 
decoration  is  as  follows:  In  the  top  the  Assumption 
of  the  Virgin ;  the  pendentives  contain  St.  John  of 
Damascus,  St.  Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  St.  Clement,  and  St. 
Ignatius.  In  the  arches,  the  martyrdoms  of  St.  Cath- 
erine, St.  Dmitri,  St.  George,  and  St.  Barbara's  Re- 
nunciation of  the  World.     These  are  all  by  M.  Bassine. 

In  the  chapel  of  St.  Alexander  Newsky,  the  dome 
represents  in  the  ceiliug  Jehovah  in  the  skies,  sur- 
rounded by  a  circle  of  angels  and  serajihim.  In  the 
])endentives,  St.  Nicodenms,  St.  Joseph  the  husband  of 
Mary,  St.  James  the  Less,  and  Joseph  of  Arimathea. 
The  arches  are  tilled  by  scenes  from  the  life  of  St. 
Alexander  Newsky.  In  one,  he  prays  for  his  country ; 
in  a  second,  he  is  gaining  a  victory  over  the  Swedes,  his 
white  horse  rearing  amid  the  melee;  in  the  third, 
stretched  upon  his  death-bed,  he  makes  an  edifying  and 
CJn'istian  end,  amid  candles  burning  around  him  and 
priests  reciting  prayers  ;  in  the  fourth,  they  are  piously 
bearing  his  remains  to  their  last  resting-place  upon  a 
rich  catafalque  lying  on  a  boat. 

Upon  the  doors  of  tliese  chapels  are  painted  great 
figures  of  saints  and  prophets  upon  golden  backgrounds, 
and  in  what  I  may  call  the  modernized  Byzantine  style. 

I  come  now  to  a  descriptictn  of  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
concealed  from  the  eyes  of  the  worship[>ers  by  the  veil 
of  gold  and  nuilachite,  of  lapis-lazuli  and  agate,  which 
forms  the  iconostase.  One  rarely  penetrates  into  this 
mysterious  and  sacred  place,  wherein  are  celebrated  the 
secret  rites  of  the  Greek  church.  It  is  a  sort  of  hall  or 
choir,  lighted  by  the  painted  window  whence  shines 
tlie  colossal  figure  of  Christ  which  is  seen  within  when 
the  doors  of  the  sanctuary  are  opened.  Its  two  side 
walls  are  formed  by  the  inner  surface  of  screens  occu- 
pied by  paintings  representing  a  multitude  of  saintly 
lio-ures. 


228  ^  WINTER  IN  EUSSIA. 

The  altar,  of  white  statuary  marble,  is  marked  b}^  the 
most  noble  simplicity.  A  model  of  the  church  of 
St.  Isaac's  in  gilded  silver  and  of  great  weight,  repre- 
sents the  tabernacle.  This  model  presents  some  details 
which  are  not  found  in  the  real  structure.  Thus  the 
counter-forts  which  sustain  the  campaniles  are  adorned 
with  great  groups  in  relief,  like  those  of  the  Arc 
de  I'Etoile  ;  and  the  attic,  which  is  smooth  in  the  real 
building,  offers  a  suite  of  bas-reliefs,  of  which,  it  seems 
to  me,  the  effect  would  have  been  very  pleasing. 

Having  thus  carefully  and  minutely  described  the 
exterior  and  interior  of  the  church,  I  may  now  sketcli 
with  freer  and  more  careless  pencil  some  of  the  princi- 
pal effects  of  light  and  shade  within  this  immense 
edifice. 

The  light  seems  to  be  somewhat  deficient  in  St. 
Isaac's,  or  at  least  to  be  very  unequally  diffused.  The 
dome  sheds  a  flood  of  light  into  the  centre  of  the  build- 
ing, and  the  four  great  windows  give  sutiicicnt  for  tlie 
cupolas  in  the  four  corners.  But  other  portions  remain 
in  shadow,  or  at  least  receive  light  only  at  certain  hours 
of  the  day  and  through  fugitive  incidence  of  rays. 
The  fault  was  intentional,  for  nothing  w^ould  have  been 
more  easy  than  to  cut  windows  through  a  structure 
standing  free  on  all  four  sides.  M.  de  Montf errand 
desired  this  mysterious  half-light,  favorable  to  religious 
impressions,  and  to  collected  devotion.  But  he  per- 
haps forgot  that  this  obscurity  which  harmonizes  with 
the  Romance,  the  Byzantine,  or  the  Gothic  architectures, 
is  less  fortunate  in  an  edifice  of  the  classic  style,  made 
for  light,  all  covered  with  costly  marbles,  gilded  orna- 
ments, and  mural  paintings,  which  ought  to  be  seen,  and 
which,  his  devotions  ended,  one  desires  to  see.  Many 
of  these  paintings  were  executed  in  great  part  by  light 
of  lamps,  a  fact  which  is  itself  a  sort  of  condemnation 
of  the  position  in  which  they  are  placed.  It  would 
have  been  easy,  in  my  opinion,  to  conciliate  everything, 
and  to  have,  in  turn,  the  light  or  shade  needed,  b}'  having 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  229 

windows  dfirkeiicd  by  blinds,  liangino;s,  or  opnque 
shades.  Keli^ion  would  have  lost  nothing,  and  art 
would  have  gained  by  this.  If  St.  Petersburg  has  its 
long  summer  days,  it  has  also  its  long  winter  nights, 
which  encroach  upon  the  day,  and  during  which  only 
the  most  sparing  light  filters  through  the  sky. 

However,  it  must  bo  owned  that  striking  effects  result 
from  these  alternations  of  light  and  sliade.  Vv^lien  you 
look  down  the  dark  side  naves  into  the  chapels  of  St. 
Catherine  and  St.  Alexander  Newsky,  whose  iconostases 
of  white  marble,  adorned  with  gilded  bronze,  incrusted 
with  malachite  and  agate,  set  with  paintings  on  gold 
backgrounds,  each  receive  the  light  of  a  great  side  win- 
dow, you  are  dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  these  fa9ades, 
framed  as  they  are  in  the  sonil)re  vaults.  The  great 
window  on  which  is  represented  the  Chi'ist  shines  fcn'th 
in  the  shadow  with  a  marvellous  intensity  of  color. 
The  deadened  light  is  in  no  way  objectionable  for  the 
isolated  tigures  whose  outlines  stand  out  distinctly  upon 
a  field  of  gold.  The  brilliancy  of  the  metal  detaches 
the  figure  clearly  enough,  but  in  compositions  containing 
many  groups,  and  on  a  natural  background,  this  is  not 
always  the  case.  Many  interesting  details  escape  the 
eye,  and  even  the  glass.  The  Byzantine  churches,  or,  to 
speak  more  exactly,  the  Greco-Russian  churches,  wherein 
reigns  the  I'eligious  mystery  which  M.  de  Montfen-and 
has  sought  to  obtain  in  St.  Isaac's,  contain  no  pictures 
pi'operly  so  called  ;  the  walls  are  covered  with  deco- 
rative paintings,  the  figures  in  which  are  traced,  with- 
out any  attempt  at  eilect  or  illusion,  upon  a  uniform 
field  of  gold  or  of  color,  with  conventional  attitudes  and 
invariable  attributes,  rendered  by  simj)le  outlines  and 
fiat  coloring,  and  clothing  the  edifice  like  a  rich  tapes- 
try whose  general  tone  contents  the  eye.  1  am  well 
aware  that  ]\1.  de  Montfcrrand  rcconnnended  to  the  ar- 
tists cnti'usted  with  the  jtaintings  in  St.  Isaac's,  to  work 
broadly  and  in  a  dcH'.oi-ative  manncu';  a  counsel  easier  to 
give  than  Lo  follow,  with  the  style  ol"  architecture  ado[)ted. 


230  -4  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

Each  artist  has  done  his  best,  in  accordance  with 
his  nature  and  the  resources  of  his  talent,  in  unconscious 
obedience  to  the  modern  cliaracter  of  the  church,  except- 
ing in  the  iconostases,  whei-e  the  figures,  isolated,  or 
placed  one  beside  another  in  golden  panels,  appear  in 
strong  relief,  and  assume  those  clear-cut  contours  which 
painting,  destined  to  ornament  a  building,  ought  to  pos- 
sess. 

The  compositions  of  M.  Bruni,  of  which,  as  they  pre- 
sented themselves  in  the  description  of  the  church,  I 
have  indicated  the  snbjects  and  the  arrangement,  com- 
mend themselves  to  our  approval  by  a  grandeur  of 
style,  and  a  truly  historic  manner,  formed  by  a  profound 
and  thoughtful  study  of  the  Italian  masters.  I  refer 
with  special  emphasis  to  this  merit,  for  Ave,  like  the  rest 
of  the  world,  are  losing  it.  M.  Ingres  and  his  school 
are  its  last  depositaries.  A  certain  anecdotic  point,  a 
too  minute  care  for  effect  and  for  detail,  a  fear  lest 
undue  severity  might  prevent  success,  take  away  from 
modern  works  that  stamp  of  magisterial  gravity  which, 
in  the  past  centuries,  was  possessed  even  by  second-rate 
works.  M.  Bruni  is  faithful  to  the  grand  traditions  ; 
lie  has  sought  inspiration  from  the  frescos  of  the  Sistine 
and  the  Vatican,  and  unites  to  this  inspiration,  besides 
his  own  personal  feeling,  something  of  the  profound 
and  reflective  manner  peculiar  to  the  German  school. 
You  can  see  that,  if  M.  Bruni  has  gazed  long  upon 
Michel  Angelo  and  Raphael,  he  has  also  cast  a  thonght- 
f  ul  glance  at  Overbeck,  Cornelius,  and  Kaulbach,  artists 
too  much  ignored  in  Paris,  and  whose  works  weigh  more 
than  is  believed  in  the  balance  of  the  art  of  the  present 
day.  He  meditates,  lie  arranges,  balances,  and  reasons 
out  his  compositions  without  that  haste  to  begin  to  paint, 
wliicli  is  to  be  detected  in  so  many  modern  pictures 
otherwise  full  of  merit.  Witli  M.  Bruni,  the  execution 
is  but  a  means  of  expressing  the  thought, — not  an  end 
in  itself;  he  knows  that  when  the  subject  is  rendered 
upon  the  cartoon  in  a  noble,  grand,  and  characteristic 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  231 

way,  the  most  important  part  of  tlie  work  is  done.  Per- 
luips  ho  neglects  coloring  more  than  he  ought,  and  em- 
ploy's too  lai-ge  a  proportion  of  those  sober,  neutral, 
deadened,  ahHtract  tints — so  to  speak — v/hich  a  care  to 
make  the  idea  alone  conspicuous  leads  a  painter  to  se- 
lect. I  do  not  like,  in  historical  painting,  what  is  called 
illusion  ;  it  is  not  fitting  that  too  coarse  reality,  a  too 
material  life,  should  confuse  these  serene  pages  whereon 
the  image  only,  not  the  object  itself,  should  be  repro- 
duced ;  and  still  it  is  well  to  guard  a  little,  especially 
with  a  regard  to  the  future,  against  the  dull  and  gloomy 
surroundings  which  a  study  of  the  old  frescos  seems  to 
recommend.  The  paintings  in  St.  Isaac's  executed  by  M. 
Bruni,  are  those  most  worthy  of  its  charac^ter  which 
the  church  contains ;  they  have  individuality  and. 
Diaestria.  Although  he  succeeds  well  in  figures  which 
demand  energy,  and  understands  anatomy  sufficiently  to 
venture  upon  that  violence  of  muscular  action  which 
some  subjects  recjuire,  M.  Bruni  possesses  in  addition, 
as  a  special  gift,  a  power  of  exciting  religious  feeling,  a 
grace  and  angelic  suavity  resembling  the  manner  of 
Overbeck ;  in  his  figures  of  angels  and  cherubim  and 
saints,  there  is  an  elegance,  a  distinction, — if  one  may 
use  a  word  which  lias  generally  a  more  mundane  appli- 
cation,— and  a  poetry,  chaj'ming  in  the  extreme. 

M.  v(mNeff  has  conceived  of  the  work  entrusted  him, 
rather  in  the  character  of  an  artist  working  for  a  i>ic- 
ture-gallery,  than  a  man  employed  as  a  decorator  of  a 
public  building;  l>ut  it  is  imi)()ssible  to  be  displeased 
with  him  for  this.  His  paintings,  placed  much  nearer 
the  eye,  in  those  niches  of  the  walls  and  })ilasters  which 
serve  as  frames  and  give  mural  painting  the  look  oi  a 
picture,  do  not  demand  the  sacrifices,  in  the  way  of  ef- 
fect and  of  perspective,  which  are  required  by  the  attics, 
the  vaults,  and  the  cupolas.  This  artist  has  a  warm  and 
brilliant  coloring,  a  skilful  and  accurate  execution, 
which  remind  me  of  Peter  von  J  less,  whose  works  I 
have  seen  in  Munich.     Jesus  sendiuir  His  Picture   to 


232  -4  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

Abgariis,  and  tlio  Empress  Helena  finding  the  True  Cross, 
are  remarkable  pictures,  and  might  be  detached  from 
their  phices  without  any  loss  of  value.  All  the  other 
paintings  b}^  M.  von  Neif  in  the  niches  of  the  pilasters 
bear  tlie  stamp  of  the  master,  and  reveal  a  highly  en- 
dowed artist,  one  who  has  a  very  correct  feeling  for 
colo)-  and  clare-obscure.  The  isolated  figures  executed 
by  him  upon  the  iconostases,  the  heads  and  portions  of 
the  nudo  painted  by  him  in  the  great  gilded  i^roup 
over  the  sacred  door,  have  a  relief  and  a  strength  of  tone 
that  is  truly  marvellous.  It  would  be  difticult  more 
successfully  to  unite  painting  to  sculpture,  and  vvx)rk  of 
the  pencil  to  that  of  the  chisel. 

The  paintings  of  M.  Bruni,  for  composition  and  stylo, 
and  those  of  M.  von  Nelf,  for  coloring  and  executiou, 
eeem  to  me  most  satisfactory  in  their  kind. 

M.  Pietro  Bassine,  in  his  numerous  works,  has  exhib- 
ited an  affluence  of  ideas,  a  facility  of  execution,  and  th:it 
decorative  skill  which  distinguishes  the  painters  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  to  whom,  in  our  day,  public  taste 
restores  the  esteem  of  Avhich  they  were  unjustly  de- 
prived by  David  and  liis  school.  We  can  now  say,  by 
way  of  eulogium,  that  an  artist  resembles  Pietro  de  Cor- 
tona,  Carlo 'Maratte,  or  Tie[>olo.  It  is  easy  for  M.  Bas- 
sine to  cover  enormous  spaces.  He  understands  th.e 
more  mechanical  part  of  his  work;  his  compositions 
"  make  a  picture,"  a  talent  more  rare  than  is  supposed, 
and  one  which  we  are  losiug  every  day. 

The  sober,  pure,  and  correct  talent  of  M.  Mussini  is 
well  known  in  Paris;  in  the  niches  of  tlie  pilasters, 
many  compositii;ns  ai-e  due  to  him,  and  confirm  his 
well-earned  reputation.  MM.  Markoif,  Zavialoff,  Plii- 
cliart,  Sazonoff,  Theodore  BrulofP,  Nikitine,  and  Sche- 
l)onief  deserve  praise  for  the  manner  in  wliicli  they 
have  acliieved  their  tasks. 

If  I  fail  to  express  a  decided  opinion  in  relation  to 
Cliarlcs  Bruloffs  dome,  it  is  because  his  illness  and 
death  (as  I  said  in  describing  the  composition,  whose  ex- 


8T.  ISAAC'S.  233 

edition  is  due  to  M.  Bassine)  prevented  Lhn  from  paint- 
ing it  himself,  and  thus  impressing  npon  it  the  stamp 
of  liis  own  personality,  one  of  the  most  powei-ful  and  re- 
markable tliat  Russian  art  has  ever  j^i'oduced.  There 
was  in  Cniloff  the  material  of  a  great  painter,  and,  amid 
numerous  faults,  genius,  which  redeems  everything. 
His  head,  which  he  took  pleasure  in  reproducing  many 
times,  with  the  increasing  pallor  and  emaciation  of  ill- 
ness, is  brilliant  with  it.  Under  that  disordered  fair 
hair,  behind  that  forehead  growing  more  wan  every 
day,  beneatli  which  shone  the  eyes  whore  life  had  made 
its  last  stand,  surely  there  was  artistic  and  poetic  thought. 

I  will  now  sum  up  in  a  few  words  that  long  study  of 
the  Cathedral  of  St.  Isaac.  It  is  without  doubt,  whether 
one  ap])rove  the  style  or  not,  the  most  important  reli- 
gious edifice  erected  within  this  century.  It  does  honor 
to  M.  de  Montferrand,  who  has  brought  it  to  completion 
in  so  short  a  time,  and  has  been  able  to  fall  asleep  in 
his  tomb,  saying,  with  more  truth  than  many  a  conceited 
poet :  Exegi  monumentum  cere  perennius, — a  satis- 
faction rarely  granted  to  architects,  whose  ]:)lans  are 
sometiTnes  so  long  in  coming  to  reality,  and  who  can  be 
present  in  the  spirit  only,  at  the  inauguration  of  the 
tem])les  they  commenced. 

Rapid  as  has  been  the  construction  of  St.  Isaac's,  the 
time  between  the  laying  of  its  first  and  of  its  last  stone 
lias  been  long  enough  lor  many  changes  to  take  place 
in  the  minds  of  men.  At  the  time  when  the  plans  of 
this  cathedral  were  accepted,  the  classic  taste  reigned 
alone  and  unchallenged.  The  Greek  or  Roman  style  was 
the  sole  type  of  perfection.  All  that  the  genius  of  man 
had  conceived  in  giving  form  to  the  ideal  of  a  new  reli- 
gion went  for  nothing.  The  Romance,  the  Byzantine, 
the  Gothic  architecture  seemed  in  bad  taste,  contrary 
to  rule, — in  a  word,  barbarous.  A  historic  value 
was  found  therein,  but  certainly  no  person  would  have 
tJiought  of  taldng  it  for  a  model.  At  most,  they  par- 
doned the  Renaissance,  because  of  its  lo\'e  for  the  an  ■ 


234  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

tique,  with  which  it  mingled  many  excxuisite  originali- 
ties and  charming  caprices,  blamed  by  severe  critics. 
At  last  came  the  "Eomantic  school,  whose  eager  studies 
oi:  the  mediaeval  period  and  the  national  origins  of  art, 
made  men  at  last  understand  the  beauties  of  those  basil- 
icas, those  cathedrals  and  chapels,  so  long  disdained  as 
the  work  of  believing,  but  ignorant,  ages.  A  very  com- 
plete, rational  art,  pei-fectly  understanding  itself,  obe- 
dient to  fixed  rules,  possessing  a  complicated  and  mys- 
terious symbolism,  was  discovered  in  these  buildings,  as 
astonishing  by  their  bulk  as  by  the  finish  of  their 
details,  which  had  before  been  believed  the  chance- 
worlc  of  ignorant  stone-cuttej'S  and  masons.  A  reaction 
followed,  which,  like  all  reactions,  soon  became  unrea- 
sonable. No  merit  at  all  could  be  recognized  in  mod- 
ern edifices  copied  from  the  classic  pattern,  and  there  is 
doubtless  more  than  one  Russian  who  regrets  that  in  this 
sumptuous  temple.  Saint  Sopliia  at  Constantinople  was 
not  imitated  rather  than  the  Roman  Pantheon.  Such 
an  opinion  may  Ije  formed  and  nsay  be  defended ;  per- 
haps even  at  the  present  day  it  would  be  the  prevailing 
one.  I  should  find  nothing  unreasonable  in  it  myself 
if  the  construction  of  St.  Isaac's  were  now  about  to  com- 
mence ;  but  when  the  plans  for  this  church  were  drawn, 
no  architect  would  have  done  otherwise  than  M.  de 
Montferrand  has  done ;  any  attempt  in  another  direc- 
tion would  have  been  deemed  insane. 

For  myself,  all  theories  apart,  I  consider  the  classic 
style  the  most  suitable  for  St.  Isaac's,  metropolis  as  it  is 
of  the  Greek  faith.  The  use  of  these  forms,  which  are 
consecrated  outside  of  time  and  fashion,  and,  inasmuch 
as  they  are  eternal,  can  never  become  barbaric  or  super- 
annuated, however  long  the  building  may  endure, 
was  wisest  for  a  great  edifice  like  this, — impressing  upon 
it  a  stamp  of  universality.  Known  by  all  civilized  peo- 
ples, the  emotions  excited  by  these  forms  must  be  ad- 
miration only,  pure  from  all  surprise  or  criticism; 
though  another   style    might  have   been    more   local, 


ST.  ISAAC'S.  235 

picturesque,  novel,  it  would  have  liad  the  grave  disad- 
vantage of  giving  rise  to  diversities  of  opinion  ;  it  might 
even  have  seemed  strange  and  fantastic, — an  im|>res- 
sion  fatal  to  the  desired  effect.  M.  de  Montfcrrand  did 
not  seek  the  curious — he  souglit  the  beautiful ;  and  St. 
Isaac's  is  unquestionably  the  most  beautiful  of  modern 
churches.  Its  architecture  admirably  suits  St.  Peters- 
l)urg,  the  youngest  and  newest  of  European  capitals. 

Those  who  regret  that  St.  Isaac's  is  not  in  the  Bj'zan- 
tine  style,  produce  upon  nie  somewhat  the  same  effect 
as  do  those  who  regret  that  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  is  not  in 
the  Gothic  stylo.  These  great  temples,  centres  of  a  faith, 
slKJuld  ha\'e  nothing  ])eculiar,  temporary,  local,  about 
them ;  it  is  right  that  all  the  centuries,  and  the  faithful 
from  every  land,  should  be  able  to  kneel  therein,  amidst 
the  opulence,  the  splendor,  and  the  beauty ! 


XVI. 

MOSCOW. 

DELIGHTFUL  as  I  fomid  my  lif e  in  St.  Petersburg, 
I  was  still  liannted  with  the  desire  to  visit  Mos- 
cow,— the  real  Russian  capital,  the  great  Muscovite  city, 
— an  undertaking  which  the  railway  renders  easy. 

Being  now  sufficiently  acclimated  not  to  dread  a 
journey  whontlie  thermometer  stands  at — 12°,  when  the 
opportunity  of  going  to  Moscow  with  an  agreeable  com- 
panion presented  itself,  I  seized  its  forelock  white  with 
frost,  and  donned  my  full  winter  costume, — pelisse  of 
marten,  cap  of  beaver,  furred  boots  coming  above  the 
knee.  One  sledge  took  my  trunk,  a  second  received  my 
person  assiduously  wrapped,  and  here  I  am,  in  the  im- 
mense railway  station,  waiting  the  hour  of  departure, 
which  is  set  for  noon,  but  the  Russian  railways  do  not 
pride  themselves,  as  ours  do,  upon  a  chronometric  punc- 
tuality. If  some  great  personage  is  expected,  the  loco- 
motive will  moderate  its  ardor  for  some  minutes,  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  perhaps, — to  give  him  time  to  arrive. 
Those  who  are  going  by  the  train  are  accompanied  to 
the  station  by  friends  and  relations,  and  the  separation, 
when  the  bell  strikes  for  the  last  time,  never  takes  place 
without  much  shaking  of  hands,  many  eml)races  and 
tender  words,  often  interrupted  by  tears.  x\t  times, 
even,  the  whole  group  take  tickets,  enter  the  carriage, 
and  escort  the  departing  one  as  far  as  the  first  station, 
to  return  by  the  next  train.  I  like  the  custom  ;  it  seems 
to  me  a  touching  one  ;  they  desire  to  enjoy  the  society 
(jf  their  friends  for  yet  a  few  moments  longer,  and  to 
postpone,  as  long  as  they  can,  the  sad  moment  of  part- 


MOSCOW.  237 

iiig.  In  the  faces  of  these  mnjiks — otherwise  far  from 
beautiful — a  painter  would  have  observed  expressions 
pathetic  by  their  simplicity.  Mothers  and  wives,  whose 
sons  or  husbands  are  t^oing  away — j^erhaps  for  years — 
in  their  deep  and  imfeigned  grief,  remind  one  of  the 
holy  women  with  reddened  eyes  and  mouth  contracted 
by  suppressed  sobs,  that  the  mediaeval  artists  represent 
along  the  way  to  Calvary.  In  divers  countries  have  I 
seen  iim-yards,  wlien  the  diligence  was  leaving, — quays 
of  embarkation, — railway-stations  for  departing  ti-ains, 
— but  never,  in  any  place,  adieus  so  tender  and  so 
heart- brealdno;  as  tliose  which  I  have  witnessed  in 
Russia. 

The  fitting  up  of  railway-carriages  in  a  country 
where  the  thermometer  more  than  once  in  a  winter  goes 
down  to  thirty-five  or  forty  degrees  below  zero,  could 
not  be  expected  to  resemble  that  wherewith  temperate 
climes  are  content.  The  hot-water  tins,  in  use  in  the  west 
of  Europe,  would  soon  contain  only  a  block  of  ice,  under 
the  traveller's  feet.  The  air  rushing  in  through  cracks 
around  the  doors  and  windows  would  introduce  colds  in 
the  head,  congestions,  and  rheumatisms.  On  Russian 
trains,  many  carriages  united  together  and  communicat- 
ing by  doors,  which  the  travellers  open  or  shut  at  will, 
form,  so  to  speak,  a  suite  of  rooms,  preceded  by  an 
ante-chamber  and  dressing-room,  where  the  lesser 
articles  of  luggage  may  be  placed.  This  ante-room 
opens  upon  a  platform  surrounded  by  a  balustrade, 
which  you  reach  by  a  stairway  more  convenient  than 
the  steps  to  our  railway  carriages. 

Stoves,  tilled  with  wood,  heat  the  com]mrtment  and 
maintain  a  temperature  of  GG°  or  (jS°.  The  windows, 
listed  with  strips  of  felt,  entirely  exclude  the  cold  air 
and  retain  the  interior  heat.  You  see,  therefore,  that  a 
journey  from  St.  Fetei-sburg  to  Moscow,  in  the  month 
of  January,  in  a  climate  the  mere  mention  of  which 
makes  a  Parisian  shudder  and  his  teeth  chatter  in  his 
head,  has  nothing  really  polar  about  it.     You  would  bo 


238  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

quite  sure  to  suffer  more  in  making  the  trip  from 
Enrgos  to  Yalladolid,  at  the  same  time  of  year. 

Around  the  sides  of  the  first  carriage  rims  a  wide 
divan  for  the  use  of  sleepy  people  and  of  those  who 
are  not  afraid  to  cross  their  legs  in  Turkish  fa?liion.  I 
preferred  tlie  spring-seated  arm-chairs  with  well-stuffed 
head-rests  whicli  are  found  in  the  second  section,  and 
installed  myself  comfortably  in  a  corner  one.  Thus 
ensconsed,  I  seemed  to  myself  to  be,  for  the  time,  living 
in  a  house  on  wheels,  rather  than  to  be  enduring  the 
restraint  of  a  public  conveyance.  I  was  at  liberty  to 
rise  and  walk  about,  to  go  anywhere  in  the  comj^art- 
ment  with  the  same  amount  of  freedom  enjoyed  b}'  the 
traveller  on  a  steamboat, — a  luxury  of  which  one  is  de- 
prived who  is  boxed  up  in  a  diligence,  a  post-chaise,  or  the 
railway  carriage  as  it  is  still  constructed  in  France. 

My  seat  being  selected,  I  left  my  travelling-bag  to 
indicate  and  retain  it,  and,  as  the  train  was  not  ready  to 
move,  I  walked  a  few  steps  along  by  the  track,  and  the 
peculiar  shape  of  the  smoke-stack  of  the  locomotive 
attracted  my  notice.  It  is  coiffed  with  a  vast  fuuuel, 
which  gives  it  a  resemblance  to  those  hooded  chinmeys 
that  rise  so  picturesquely  in  profile  above  the  red  walls 
in  Caualetto's  Venetian  pictures. 

Russian  locomotives  are  not  coal-burners,  like  the 
French  and  those  of  the  Western  countries,  but  con- 
sume wood  in  all  cases. 

Logs  of  birch  or  ]>ine  are  piled  symmetrically  upon 
the  tender,  and  are  renewed  at  stations  where  there  are 
wood-yards.  This  makes  the  old  peasants  say  that  at 
the  rate  things  are  going  in  Holy  Russia,  they  will  soon 
be  forced  to  pull  down  the  log-huts  to  get  wood  to  feed 
the  stoves  ;  but  before  all  the  forests  are  gone,  or  even 
all  sutHciently  near  the  railways,  the  explorations  of 
engineers  will  have  discovered  some  bed  of  anthracite 
or  bituminous  coal.  This  virgin  soil  must  conceal  inex- 
haustible wealth. 

At  last,  the  train  moves  off.     We-  leave  at  our  right, 


MOSCOW.  239 

upon  tlic  old  high-road,  the  arch  of  triumph  of  Moscow, 
stately  and  grand  of  outline,  and  we  see  fly  past  us 
the  last  houses  of  tlie  city,  ever  more  and  more 
scattered,  with  their  board  fences,  their  wooden  walls 
painted  in  the  old  Russian  fashion,  and  their  grceu 
roofs  frosted  with  snow,  for,  as  we  leav^e  the  centre  of 
the  city  behind  us,  the  various  buildings,  which,  in  the 
fashionable  (piarters  affect  the  styles  of  Berlin,  Paris, 
and  London,  fall  back  into  the  national  characteristics. 
St.  Petersburg  begins  to  disappear ;  but  the  golden 
cupola  of  St.  Isaac's,  the  spire  of  the  Admiralt}',  the 
pyramidal  towers  of  the  church  of  the  Horse-Guards, 
the  domes  of  starred  azure  and  bulb-shaped  tin  belfries 
yet  glitter  upon  the  horizon,  with  an  effect  as  of  a 
Byzantine  crown  resting  on  a  cushion  of  silver  brocade. 
The  houses  of  men  seem  to  sink  back  into  the  earth, 
the  houses  of  God  to  spring  upward  towards  heaven. 

While  I  was  looking  out,  there  began  to  appear  upon 
the  window-glass,  as  a  result  of  the  contrast  between 
the  cold  air  without  and  the  heated  air  within,  delicate 
arborizations  of  the  color  .of  quicksilver,  v>^hich  soon 
cross  their  branches,  spread  out  in  broad  leaves,  form  a 
magic  forest,  and  cover  the  pane  so  completely  that 
the  view  is  entirely  cut  off.  There  is  certainly  nothing 
more  exrpiisite  than  these  branches,  arabesques,  and 
filigrees  of  ice  wrought  with  so  delicate  a  touch  by  tlie 
hand  of  Winter.  It  is  a  bit  of  Northern  poetry,  and  the 
imagination  can  discover  Hyperborean  mirages  thei-ein. 
However,  after  you  have  contemplated  them  for  an  hour, 
you  become  annoyed  by  this  veil  of  white  embroidery, 
through  which  one  can  neither  see  nor  be  seen.  Your 
curiosity  is  exasperated  at  the  idea  that,  behind  this 
ground  glass,  a  world  of  unknown  objects  is  passing  by, 
which  will,  perhaps,  never  come  under  your  eyes  again. 
In  France,  I  should  have  lowered  the  glass  without  hes- 
itation ;  in  Russia,  it  would  be  perhaps  a  mortal  impru- 
dence so  to  do.  Cold,  the  wild  beast,  forever  lying  in 
wait  for  his  prey,  would  have  stretched  into  the  caniage 


240  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA 

his  polar-bear's  paw,  and  cuffed  me,  witli  all  his  claws 
uiislieathed.  In  the  open  air,  he  is  an  enemy  fierce, 
indeed,  yet  loyal  and  generous  in  his  rough  way ;  but 
beware  of  letting  him  vvdthin  doors,  for  then  it  becomes 
a  struggle  for  life  ;  should  but  one  of  his  arrows  wound 
you  in  the  side,  it  may  be  a  long,  hard  struggle  before 
you  are  a  sound  man  again. 

There  was  need,  however,  to  do  something  about  it ; 
it  would  have  been  a  great  pity  to  be  transported  from 
St.  Petersburg  to  Moscow  in  a  box,  with  a  milky 
square  cut  in  it,  through  which  nothing  could  be  seen. 
I  have  not,  thank  Heaven  !  the  temperament  of  the 
Englishman  who  had  himself  transported  from  Loudon 
to  "Constantinople  with  a  bandage  over  his  eyes,  re- 
moved only  at  the  entrance  of  the  Golden  Horn,  that 
he  might  enjoy  suddenly,  and  without  enfeebling  tran- 
sition, this  splendid  panorama,  unrivalled  in  the  world. 
Therefore,  bringing  my  furred  cap  down  to  m}^  eye- 
brows, raising  the  collar  of  my  pelisse  and  fastening  it 
close  around  me,  drawing  up  my  long  boots,  plunging 
my  hands  into  gloves  of  which  the  thiur^b  only  is  ar- 
ticulated— a  real  Samoyed  costume — I  made  my  way 
bravely  to  the  platform  in  front  of  the  railway  carriage. 
An  old  soldier  in  military  capote,  and  decorated  with 
many  medals,  was  there,  looking  out  for  the  train,  and 
seemed  in  no  way  inconvenienced  by  the  temperature. 
A  small  gratification,  in  the  shape  of  a  silver  ruble, 
which  he  did  not  solicit,  but  neither  did  refuse,  made 
him  obligingly  turn  his  head  towards  another  point  of 
the  horizon,  while  I  lighted  an  excellent  cigar  obtained 
at  Eliseief's,  and  extracted  from  one  of  those  boxes 
with  glass  sides,  which  exhibit  the  merchandise  without 
the  necessity  of  breaking  the  band  which  has  been 
stamped  at  the  custom-house. 

I  was  soon  compelled  to  throw  away  this  pure 
Havana  "  t^e  laVueltadeAhajo,^^  for  though  it  burned 
at  one  end,  it  froze  at  the  other.  An  agglutination  of 
ice  welded  it  to  my  lips,  and  every  time  I  took  it  from 


MOSCOW.  241 

my  month,  a  bit  of  skin  came  off  attached  to  tlio  loaf 
of  tobacco.  To  smoke  in  the  open  air  witli  the  tlier- 
mometer  at  — 12°,  comes  near  beinii^  an  impossibility ; 
licuce,  conformity  with  the  ukase  prohibiting  the  out-of- 
door  pipe  or  cigar  is  less  difficult.  In  the  present  case, 
the  scene  unfoldino;  l)ef«>re  me  was  of  interest  enouirh 
to  compensate  for  the  small  privation. 

As  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  a  cold  draper}^  of  snow 
covered  the  land,  leaving  the  undefined  forms  of  all  ob- 
jects to  be  conjectured  beneath  its  white  folds,  very 
nmch  as  a  winding  sheet  reveals  the  dead  figure  wdiich 
it  hides  from  sight.  There  are  no  longer  roads,  nor 
footpaths,  nor  rivers,  nor  any  kind  of  demarciations. 
Oidy  elevations  and  dejiressions,  and  those  not  very  ])er- 
ceptible,  in  the  universal  whiteness.  The  bedsof  frozen 
streams  are  become  only  a  kind  of  valley,  tracing  sinu- 
osities through  the  snow,  and  often  filled  up  by  it.  At 
i-emote  intervals,  clusters  of  rusty  birch-trees,  half- 
l)nried,  emerge  and  show  their  naked  heads.  A  few 
huts,  built  of  logs,  and  loaded  with  snow,  send  u]3  smoke, 
and  are  a  stain  upon  the  whiteness  of  this  melancholy 
pall.  Along  the  track  you  remark  lines  of  brushwood 
planted  in  rows,  destined  to  arrest  in  its  horizontal 
course  the  white,  icy  dust  that  is  moved  ah)ng  with 
frightful  impetuosity  by  the  snow-blow,  that  l'ha7nsi)i 
of  the  pole.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine  the  strange, 
sad  grandeur  of  this  immense  white  landscape,  offering 
the  same  aspect  as  does  the  fnll  moon  seen  through  a 
telescope.  You  seem  to  be  in  some  planet  that  is  dead, 
and  is  delivered  over  to  eternal  cold.  The  mind  refuses 
to  believe  that  this  prodigious  accumulation  of  snow 
will  melt,  and  evaporate,  or  else  return  to  the  sea  in  the 
swollen  cun-ents  of  rivers;  and  that,  some  day,  the 
spring  will  make  these  colorless  plains  green  andilov.-er- 
strewn.  The  low,  overcast  slcy  with  its  uniform  gray, 
Avhich  is  made  yellowish  by  the  white  earth,  adds  to  the 
melancholy  of  the  landscape.  A  profound  silence,  bro- 
ken (»nly  by  the  rumbling  of  the  train  over  the  rails, 
11 


242  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

reigned  in  tlie  solitude,  for  the  snow  deadens  all  sonnds 
with  its  carpet  of  ermine.  In  all  the  wide  waste  there 
was  not  a  person  to  be  seen,  not  a  trace  of  man  or  ani- 
mal. The  human  being  kept  himself  close  behind  the 
log-walls  of  his  isba  ;  the  animal,  deep  in  his  lair.  Only 
as  we  drew  near  stations,  from  some  fold  in  the  snow 
emerged  sledges  and  kibitkas,  the  little  dishevelled 
horses  racing  on  the  full  gallop  across  country,  without 
regard  to  the  buried  roads,  and  coming  from  some  un- 
seen village  to  meet  the  train.  In  our  compartment 
there  were  some  young  men  of  rank  going  out  hunting, 
clad  for  the  occasion  in  touloupes,  new  and  handsome, 
of  light  salmon-color,  and  ornamented  with  stitching  in 
form  of  graceful  arabesques.  As  I  ha\'e  bef  oi'e  explai  ned, 
the  touloupe  is  a  kind  of  caftan  of  sheepskin,  the  hair 
worn  inwards,  as  are  all  furs  in  really  cold  countries. 
A  button  fastens  it  at  the  shoulder,  a  leather  belt  with 
plates  of  metal  secures  it  around  the  waist.  Add  to 
this  an  Astrakancap,  bootsof  white  felt,  a  hunting-knife 
at  the  belt,  and  you  have  a  costume  of  truly  Asiatic  ele- 
gance. Although  it  is  the  raujik's  costume,  the  noble 
does  not  hesitate  to  assume  it  under  these  circumstances, 
for  there  is  nothing  more  convenient  or  better  adapted 
to  the  climate.  Furthermore,  the  difference  between 
this  touloupe,  clean,  supple,  soft  as  a  kid  glove,  and  the 
soiled,  greasy,  shining  touloupe  of  the  mujik,  is  so  great 
that  no  comparison  between  the  two  would  be  possible. 
Tliese  birch  and  pine  woods  that  you  perceive  on  the 
horizon  as  mere  brown  lines,  harbor  wolves  and  bears, 
and  sometimes,  it  is  said,  tlie  moose,  a  wild  creature  of 
the  North,  the  pursuit  of  which  is  not  without  danger, 
and  requires  agile,  sti'ong,  and  courageous  Nimrods. 

A  troika,  with  its  three  superb  horses,  awaited  our 
young  gentlemen  at  one  of  the  stations  ;  and  I  watched 
them  plunge  into  the  depths  of  the  country,  with  a 
rapidity  which  had  no  need  to  envy  that  of  the  locomo- 
tive, by  a  road  quite  concealed  under  the  snow,  but 
marked  out  from  point  to  point  by  posts.     At  the  pac,e 


MOSCOW.  243 

at  which  tliey  were  going,  I  soon  lost  tliem  from  sight. 
They.were  to  meet,  at  some  chateau  whose  name  has 
escaped  me,  comrades  of  the  cluise,  and  promised  them- 
selves to  have  better  luck  than  La  Fontaine's  simpletons 
who  sold  the  bear-skin  before  they  had  killed  the  bear. 
Their  plan  was  to  kill  the  bear,  and  to  keep  his  skin  for 
one  of  those  rugs  bordered  with  scarlet,  and  with  the 
head  stuffed,  against  which  the  traveller  who  is  a  novice 
never  fails  to  stumble,  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  St. 
Petersburg,  By  their  tranquilly  deliberate  air,  I  judged 
well  of  their  cynegetic  prowess. 

I  do  not  mention,  station  after  station,  the  localities 
through  which  runs  the  railway ;  it  would  be  of  no 
great  use  to  the  reader  for  me  to  tell  him  that  the  ti-ain 
stopped  at  this  or  at  that  place,  whose  name  awakens  in 
him  no  idea  and  no  recollection,  especially  since  the 
cities  or  towns  of  importance  are  sometimes  quite  re- 
mote f  i-om  tlie  road,  and  are  betrayed  only  by  the  green 
bulbs  and  the  copper  cupolas  of  their  churclies.  For 
the  railway  from  St.  Petersburg  to  Moscow  follows  in- 
flexibly the  straight  line,  and  allows  itself  to  be  drawn 
aside  by  no  pretext  whatsoever;  it  does  not  pay  the 
compliment  of  curve  or  elbow  to  Tver,  the  most  consid- 
erable city  upon  the  way,  the  place  whence  the  Volga 
steam-boats  start ;  it  passes  disdainfully  by,  at  some  dis- 
tance, and  to  reach  Tver  you  must  take  sledge  or 
droschk}'-,  according  to  the  time  of  year. 

The  stations,  built  on  a  uniform  plan,  are  magnificent. 
In  their  architecture  the  red  shades  of  brick  and  the 
white  of  stone  are  united  in  a  way  pleasing  to  the  eye ; 
but  in  seeing  one  you  see  all,  I  will  describe  that  at 
which  we  stopped  for  dinner.  This  station  has  the 
peculiarity  of  jieing  ]>laced,  not  at  the  side  of  the  road, 
but  in  the  middle,"like  the  church  of  Mary-le-bone  in 
the  Strand,  The  iron  ribbon  of  the  railway  goes  ou 
both  sides  of  it,  and  this  is  the  place  where  the  trains 
from  Moscow  and  from  St.  Petersburg  meet  and  passcacli 
other.     The  two  trains  pour  out  upon  the  platforms  at  the 


244  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

right  and  left  their  passengers,  who  sit  down  togetlicr  at 
dinner.  The  train  from  Moscow  brings  travellers  from 
Archangel,  Tobolsk,  Kiatka,  Irkontsk ;  from  the  banks  of 
the  A.moor ;  from  the  shores  of  the  Caspian  ;  from  Kazan, 
Tiflis,  the  Cancasus,  the  Crimea ;  from  the  depths  of  all 
the  E-ussias,  European  and  Asiatic  ;  who  shake  hands  in 
passing,  with  acquaintances  from  the  West,  brought  by 
the  St.  Petersburg  train.  It  is  a  cosmopolitan  love- 
feast,  where  are  spoken  more  languages  than  at  the 
Tower  of  Babel.  The  dining-hall  is  lighted  by  wide, 
arched  windows  with  double  glass,  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  room ;  a  mild,  greenhouse  temperature  prevails  in 
it,  and  permits  Bourbon-palms  and  tulip-trees  and  other 
tropical  plants  to  expand  their  great,  silk}^  leaves.  The 
luxury  of  rare  plants  wliich  I  have  so  much  admired  in 
St.  Petersburg,  still  continues,  and  gives  a  holiday  air 
to  the  inside  of  houses,  refreshing  the  eye  with  green 
after  the  dazzling  white  of  the  snow.  The  table  was 
splendidly  laid,  covered  with  silver  and  crystal,  bristling 
with  bottles  of  e^'ery  form  and  of  all  vintages.  The 
slender  quilles  of  Phine  wine  stood  taller  by  a  head 
than  the  long-corked  bottles  of  Bordeaux,  coiffed  with 
metallic  capsules,  or  the  Champagne  bottles  with  their 
helmets  of  lead  paper  ;  there  were  represented  all  the 
famous  growths, — the  Chateau  d'Yquem,  the  Haut 
Barsac,  the  Chateau  Lafitte,  the  Genau-Larose,  the 
Veuve  Cliquot,  the  Poederer,  the  Moet,  the  Sternberg- 
Cabinet ;  also,  all  the  celebrated  English  beers;  a  com- 
plete assortment  of  illustrious  beverages,  bedizened  with 
gilt  labels  pi-inted  in  bigh  colors,  v*'itli  attractive  designs 
and  authentic  coats-of-arms.  It  is  in  Pussia  that  the 
best  Fi'ench  wines  are  consumed  ;  the  purest  juice  of 
our  vintages,  the  most  precious  drops  fi'om  our  wine- 
presses, run  down  these  septentrional  throats,  which  con- 
sider not  the  cost  of  that  which  they  swallow.  With 
the  exce])tion  of  a  soup,  the  Pussian  chtchi,  the  cuisine, 
it  is  needless  to  say,  was  French,  and  I  recall  to  mind  a 
certain  chaud-froid  de  gelinottes,  which  would  not  have 


MOSCOW.  245 

been  disowned  by  Robert,  that  famous  officer  of  tlio 
kitchen,  of  whom  Car6me  said,  "  In  the  chaiul-froid  he 
is  sublime  !  '^  AVaitei'S  in  bhick  coats,  white  gloves,  and 
white  cravats  circulated  around  the  table,  and  served 
with  quiet  assid!iit3\ 

My  appetite  having  been  satisfied, — while  the  other 
travellers  were  draining  glasses  of  every  shape, — I  ex- 
amined the  two  private  i)arlors  at  the  extremity  of  the 
hall,  reserved  for  persons  of  distinction,  and  the  elegant 
little  booths  where  were  offered  for  sale  satchels.  Toula 
boots  and  sli})pers  of  morocco  wrought  with  gold  and 
silver  thread,  Circassian  rugs  embroidered  with  silk  on 
a  scarlet  ground,  braided  belts  made  of  gold  thread, 
cases  containing  fork  and  s])oon  of  platina  with  gold 
niello-work  of  exquisite  design,  models  of  the  broken 
bell  of  the  Kremlin,  Russian  crosses  of  wood  carved 
with  a  patience  truly  Chinese  and  adorned  with  an  in- 
finity of  microscopic  figures;  a  thousand  fascinating 
nothings,  made  to  tempt  the  tourist,  and  lighten  his 
viaticum  by  a  few  rubles,  if  he  have  not — like  myself — 
strength  to  resist  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  to  be  content 
with  a  look  merely.  After  all,  it  is  difficult,  when  you 
think  of  absent  friends,  not  to  load  yourself  with  a  store 
of  these  ])rotty  trifies,  which  show,  on  the  return  home, 
that  _you  did  not  forget ; — and  one  generallj'  ends  by 
yielding  to  the  temptation. 

All  the  travellers  from  the  different  carriages  being 
thus  gathered  in  one  hall  for  dinner,  I  had  the  oppor- 
tunity to  observe  that,  on  a  journey  as  well  as  in  town, 
the  women  Seem  less  sensitive  to  cold  than  do  the  men. 
For  the  most  part,  the  foi-mer  appear  to  be  content  with 
the  satin  pelisse  lined  with  fur ;  they  do  not  bury  their 
heads  in  turncd-up  collars,  nor  load  themselves  with  a 
mass  of  additional  garments.  Doubtless  coquetry  has 
something  to  do  with  it ;  wliat  use  in  having  a  slender 
waist,  a  little  foot, — and  looking  like  a  bundle?  A 
]>retty  woman  from  Siberia  attracted  all  eyes  by  an  ele- 
gance which  the  journey  had  not  in  the  slightest  degree 


246  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

disarranged.  Yon  would  have  said  that  she  had  jnst 
stepped  from  iier  carriage  to  enter  the  opera.  Two 
gypsies,  attired  with  grotesque  richness,  struck  me  by 
tiie  strangeness  of  the" type,  rendered  yet  more  singular 
by  the  semi-barbarous  costume.  They  laughed  at  com- 
pliments addressed  to  them  by  some  young  men,  show- 
ing teeth  savagely  while,  set  in  those  brown  gums,  char- 
acteristic of  the  Bohemian  race, 

Emero-in^j-  from  tliis  mild  atmosphere,  the  cold,  in 
spite  of'^tlie  pelisse  which  I  had  again  laid  upon  my 
shoulders,  seemed  more  stinging  as  night  came  on.  And 
indeed  the  thermometer  had  fallen  several  degrees.  The 
snow  had  assumed  a  greater  intensity  of  white,  and 
creaked  under  foot  like  powdered  glass.  Diamonded 
S[)ecks  floated  in  the  air  and  fell  to  the  ground.  It 
would  have  been  imprudent  to  resume  my  post  npon 
the  platform.  In  so  doing,  I  might  iiave  compromised 
the  future  of  my  nose !  Besides,  the  landscape  remained 
the  same.  White  plains  followed  white  plains;  in  Rus- 
sia one  must  go  over  an  immense  distance  before  the 
horizon  changes  its  aspect. 

The  vetei-au,  with  his  breast-plate  of  medals,  filled  up 
the  stove,  and  the  temperature  of  the  compartment, 
which-  had  been  somewhat  lowered,  went  up  very 
quickly  ;  a  mild  warmth  prevailed,  and  had  it  not  been 
for  the  kind  of  swaying  motion  impressed  by  the  trac- 
tion of  the  locomotive,  I  could  have  believed  myself  in 
my  own  room.  The  lower-class  carriages,  fitted  up  with 
less  comfort  and  luxury,  are  heated  in  the  same  manner. 
In  Russia  heat  is  dispensed  to  everybody.  Lords  and 
peasants  are  equal  before  the  thermometer.  The  palace 
and  the  hovel  mark  the  same  degree ;  for  this  is  a  ques- 
tion of  life  or  death. 

Lying  upon  the  divan,  covered  with  my  pelisse,  my 
head  resting  on  my  travelling-bag,  I  lost  no  time  in  fall- 
ing aslce])  in  a  state  of  pei-fect  comfort,  rocked  by  the 
rc.^'-ular  vibration  from  tlio  engine.  Wlien  I  awoke  it 
wa's  one  o'cIocIj:  in  the  morning",  and  the  whim  seized  me 


MOSCOW.  247 

to  go  outside  and  contemplate  for  a  few  minutes  the  noc- 
turnal aspect  of  nature  in  this  northern  climate.  Tlie 
winter  nii^ht  is  loiii^  and  deep  in  tliese  hititiides,  but  no 
darkness  can  quite  conceal  the  white  shining  of  the 
snow.  Under  the  blackest  sky  you  distinguish  its  livid 
pallor  spread  out  like  a  pall  beneath  the  vaulted  roof  of 
a  tomb.  Vague  gleams,  bluish,  phosphorescent  lights 
rise  from  it.  It  betrays  objects  hidden  beneath  it  by 
the  light  on  the  relief,  and  sketches  them  as  with  a 
white  crayon  upon  the  black  background  of  the  dark- 
ness. This  wan  landscape,  whose  lines  change  their 
axis,  and  fold  theinsolves  back  rapidly  as  the  train  flies 
along,  has  the  strangest  as])ect.  For  a  moment  the 
moon,  piercing  the  heavy  clouds,  threw  its  cold  radiance 
across  the  icy  plain ;  wherever  the  light  fell  the  snow 
shone  like  silver,  whilst  the  rest  grew  azure  with  bluish 
shadows,  proving  the  truth  of  Goethe's  observation  in 
regard  to  the  shadows  upon  snow,  in  his  theory  of  colors. 
The  melancholy  is  inconceivable  of  this  immense,  pale 
horizon  which  appears  to  reflect  the  moon  and  to  send 
back  her  own  light  to  her.  It  forms  again  around  the 
train,  always  the  same  like  the  sea,  and  yet  the  locomo- 
tive fled  at  full  speed,  flinging  out  from  its  funnel 
crackling  sheaves  of  red  sparks;  but  it  seemed  to  the 
discouraged  eye  that  we  should  never  get  out  of  this 
white  circle.  The  cold,  increased  by  the  displacement 
of  the  air,  became  intense,  and  penetrated  to  my  very 
bones,  notwithstanding  the  soft  thickness  of  my  furs; 
the  breath  crystallized  upon  my  mustache, — an  icy  gag, 
as  it  were;  my  eyelashes  caught  together,  and  I  Jfelt, 
although  I  was  standing,  an  invincible  desire  of  sleep 
come  over  me;  it  was  time  to  go  inside.  When  there 
is  no  wind,  the  utmost  rigor  of  cold  can  be  endured,  but 
the  least  breath  sharpens  its  arrows,  and  gives  an  edge 
to  its  knife  of  steel.  Ordinarily,  in  these  low  tempera- 
tures in  which  the  mercury  congeals,  there  is  not  the 
slightest  wind,  and  you  might  traverse  Siberia,  alighted 
taper  in  hand,  without  a  flicker  of  the  flame  ;  but  in  the 


248  ^  wiNTSB  m  imssiA. 

slightest  current  of  air,  you  freeze,  though  you  were 
wrapped  in  spoils  won  from  the  best-furred  visitant  of 
the  p<^le. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  agreeable  sensations  possible  to 
find  myself  again  in  the  benign  atmosphere  of  ray  com- 
pai-tment,  and  to  sink  back  into  my  corner,  where  I  slept 
till  daylight,  with  that  peculiar  feeling  of  pleasure  that 
a  man  experiences  when  sheltered  from  severities  of 
climate  which  are  written  in  letters  of  ice  upon  the  win- 
dow-panes. The  morning  gray,  as  Shakespeare  says 
(for  Homer's  rosy-fingered  Aurora  would  ha\e  had  chill- 
blains  in  such  a  latitude),  began,  wi-apped  in  her  pelisse, 
to  walk  witli  boots  of  white  felt  across  the  snow.  V/e  were 
now  nearing  Moscow,  whose  dentated  crown  already  was 
seen  in  the  early  morning  light  from  the  platform  of 
the  railway  carriage. 

Some  few  years  ago,  in  the  eyes  of  a  Parisian,  Mos- 
cow loomed  vaguely,  in  the  prodigiously  remote  distance, 
by  the  light  of  the  fire  which  Eostopchin  kindled,  as  by 
a  sort  of  aurora  borealis  filling  all  the  sky — its  Byzan- 
tine crown  of  towers  and  odd-shaped  belfries  sharjDly 
relieved  against  a  baclrground  of  lurid  smoke  cut  by 
flashes  of  fiame.  It  was  a  city  fabulouslj^  splendid  and 
chimerically  remote— a  tiara  of  gems  lying  in  a  waste  of 
snow,  and  the  veterans  of  1812  spoke  of  it  with  a  kind 
of  stupor,  for,  to  them,  the  city  had  changed  itself  into 
a  volcano.  And  really,  before  railways  and  steam-boats 
were  invented,  to  reach  Moscow  was  no  trifling  enter- 
prise. 

When  I  was  a  child,  this  city  flUed  my  imagina- 
tion, and  I  used  to  stand  in  ecstasy,  on  the  Qnai  Vol- 
taire, before  tlie  windows  of  a  dealer  in  engravings, 
where  were  exhibited  great  panoramic  views  of  Moscow, 
tinted  in  imitation  of  water-color  pictures,  by  a  method 
then  very  much  in  use.  These  belfries  shaped  like 
onions ;  these  cupolas  surmounted  with  crosses  in  open- 
wor]^ ;  these  painted  hoases ;  these  figures  with  great 
beards  and  broad  hats  ;  these  women  coifled  with  pi  vol- 


MOSCOW.  249 

niks,  and  wearing  short  tunics  belted  just  under  the  arms, 
seemed  to  me  to  belong  to  thckinar  world,  and  the  idea 
of  ever  making  a  journey  thither  did  not  occur  to  my 
mind  as  a  possibility;  furthermore,  since  Moscow  liad 
been  burned,  what  interest  could  this  heap  of  cinders 
present  ?  It  was  long  before  I  was  willing  to  admit  that 
the  city  had  been  rebuilt,  and,  indeed,  that  not  all  the 
ancient  buildiugs  hud  perished  in  the  flames.  Well,  in 
less  than  a  half  hour  I  was  to  be  able  to  judge  whether 
the  old  engravings  of  the  Quai  Yoltaire  were  or  were 
not  faithful  ! 

At  the  station,  a  swarm  of  isvochtehiks  were  gathered, 
offering  their  sledges  to  the  travellers,  and  seeking  to 
decide  their  preference.  I  selected  two.  My  compan- 
ion and  1  entered  one  sledge,  the  other  was  laden  with 
our  trunks.  According  to  the  custom  of  the  Russian 
di-Iver,  who  never  waits  to  know  where  you  are  going, 
the  isvochtehiks  who  had  taken  charge  of  us  incited 
their  animals  to  a  preliminary  gallop,  and  dashed  off  in 
some  direction.  This  kind  of /^n^a^^i*  they  never  fail 
to  execute. 

The  snow  had  fallen  in  much  greater  abundance  in 
Moscow  tlian  in  St.  Petersburg,  and  the  roadway,  at 
whose  edges  it  had  been  carefully  heaped  up  with 
shovels,  was  higher  by  twenty  inches  than  the  level  of 
the  sidewalks.  Over  this  solid  layer  smoothed,  till  it 
glittered,  by  the  runners  of  the  sledges,  our  frail  equi- 
pages flew  like  the  wind,  and  the  horses'  feet  threw  up 
against  the  dasher  icy  particles  as  hard  as  hailstones. 
The  street  through  which  we  passed  was  bordered  with 
public  bathing-houses,  vapor-baths,  for  the  water-bath  is 
but  little  in  use  in  liussia. 

If  this  people  do  not  look  as  if  they  were  clean,  the 
fault  is  in  a])j)earance  only,  and  is  true  of  their  winter 
garments,whicli  it  would  be  expensive  to  renew ;  but  there 
is  not  a  Parisian  belle,  all  cold-cream,  ^?6»wfZ;'(?  de  I'is,  and 
Init  virginal,  whose  skin  is  cleaner  than  that  of  the  nni- 
jik  emerging  from  the  warm  bath.  The  poorest  of  them 
11* 


250  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

go  thitlier  at  least  once  every  week.  These  batlia,  taken 
ill  coramoD,  without  divstmctioii  of  sex,  cost  but  a  few 
kopecks.  Of  course  there  exist  besides,  for  the  ricli, 
much  more  hixiirious  establisliineiits,  where  are  gathered 
all  the  refineinents  of  the  balneal  art. 

After  a  few  moments  of  frantic  speed,  our  drivers, 
judging  that  they  had  preserved  a  respectful  silence  as 
long  as  was  needful,  turned  about  and  inquired  whither 
we  proposed  to  go.  I  iudicated  to  them  the  Hotel  Chev- 
rier,  in  the  Street  of  the  Old  Newspapei's.  Tliey  resumed 
their  course  towards  a  goal  now  definitely  fixed.  On  the 
way,  I  looked  eagerly  to  the  right  and  left,  but  without 
seeing  anything  extremely  characteristic.  Moscow  is 
built  in  concentric  zones  ;  the  exterior  is  the  most  mod- 
ern and  the  least  interesting.  Tlie  Kremliu,  which  was 
formerly  the  entire  city,  represents  the  heart  and  the 
marrow. 

Above  houses  which  do  not  differ  greatly  from  those 
of  St.  Petersburg,  here  and  there  I  see  the  curve  of  cu- 
polas of  azure  starred  with  gold,  or  bulbous  belfries  cov- 
ered with  tin  ;  a  cliui"ch  of  rococo  architecture  shows  a 
fa9ade  painted  bright  red,  the  effect  oddly  enhanced  by 
the  snow  which  lies  on  all  the  projecting  portions;  else- 
where, the  eye  is  surprised  by  a  chapel  painted  in  Marie- 
Louise  blue,  frosted  with  silver  by  the  touch  of  winter. 
The  question  of  polychromatic  architecture,  so  earnestly 
discussed  in  Paris,  was  settled  long  ago,  without  hesita- 
tion, in  Pussia ;  they  gild  their  buildings,  they  silver 
them,  they  paint  them  of  any  color,  without  the  slightest 
regard  for  sobriety  or  good  taste — as  the  pseudo-classi- 
cists understand  the  word,  for  it  is  certain  that  the  Greeks 
gave  varied  tints  to  their  edifices  and  even  to  their 
statues.  There  is  nothing  more  agreeable  than  this  rich 
variety  of  coloring  applied  to  that  architecture  which 
the  West  condemns  to  l^leak  grays,  to  neutral  yelh^ws, 
and  to  dirty  whites. 

The  signs  of  the  shops  bring  ont,  like  ornaments  of 
gold,  the  beautiful  letters  of  the  Passian  alphabet  with 


MOSCOW.  251 

their  Greek  attitudes,  so  well  suited,  like  the  Cufic  char- 
acters, to  be  euii^loyed  in  decorative  friezes.  The  trans- 
lation is  made — for  the  use  of  strangers  and  of  the  illit- 
erate— by  a  naive  representation  of  the  objects  contained 
in  the  shops. 

AVe  soon  reached  the  hotel,  whose  gi'cat  court-yard 
paved  with  wood  exhibited,  under  sheds,  the  greatest 
variety  of  vehicles  :  sledges,  troikas,  tarentasses,  drosch- 
kys,  kibitkas,  post-chaises,  coaches,  landaus,  chars- 
d-bancs,  sununer  carriages  and  winter  carriages;  for  in 
Itussia  no  one  walics,  and  if  you  send  a  servant  out  to 
buy  cigars,  he  takes  a  sledge  to  go  the  hundred  paces 
which  separates  the  house  from  the  tobacco-shop. 

They  gave  us  rooms  adorned  with  mirrors,  the  walls 
hung  wilh  large-flowered  paper,  and  the  furniture  sump- 
tuous in  the  extreme,  like  the  great  hotels  in  Paris. 
Not  the  smallest  vestige  of  local  color,  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  all  the  outfit  of  modern  comfort.  However  ro- 
mantic a  man's  tastes  nuiy  be,  he  easily  resigns  himself 
to  this,  so  great  hc^ld  has  civilization  even  upon  charac- 
ters the  most  rebellious  towards  its  effeminacies ;  there 
was  nothmg  Russian  here,  save  the  great  green  leather 
sofa,  on  which  one  can  sleep  so  well,  wrapped  in  his 
j)eli8se. 

My  heavy  travelling  garments  hung*  up  in  the  dress- 
ing-room, and  my  ablutions  ended, — before  making  a 
dash  at  tlie  city  I  thought  it  might  be  well  to  break- 
fast, in  order  not  to  be  molested  in  my  admirations  by 
the  pangs  of  hunger,  and  forced  to  return  to  my  hotel 
from  some  absurdly  remote  quarter  of  the  town.  The 
repast  was  served  to  me  in  the  centre  of  a  glazed  hall, 
arranged  as  a  winter  garden,  and  crowded  with  exotic 
plants.  To  be  eating  a  beefsteak  with  potatoes  souiflee^^ 
in  Moscow,  in  a  minature  virgin  forest,  is  an  odd  enough 
sensation.  The  waiter,  who  stood  ready  to  receive  my 
orders  a  few  steps  from  the  table,  although  he  wore  a 
black  coat  and  a  white  cravat,  had  the  yellow  complex- 
ion, projecting  cheek-bones,  and  small,  flattened  uoso 


252  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

which  betrayed  his  Mongol  descent  and  assured  me 
that,  for  all  his  air  of  waiter  of  the  Cafe  Anglais,  he 
could  not  have  been  born  far  from  the  couiines  of 
China. 

As  one  cannot  observe  the  minute  details  of  a  city 
while  borne  along  in  a  sledge  that  is  gohig  like  a  iiasli, 
I  resolved — at  the  risk  of  passing  for  a  very  ordinary 
seigneur,  and  drawing  upon  myself  the  contempt  of  the 
mujiks^to  make  my  first  expedition  on  foot,  equipped 
with  stout  furred  overshoes  separating  the  soles  of  my 
boots  fl-om  the  icy  sidewalk ;  and  I  soon  arrived  at  the 
Kitai  Gorod,  which  is  the  business  quarter  of  the  city, 
upon  the  Krasnaia,  or  Eed  Place, — the  Beautiful  Place, 
I  ought  rather  to  say,  for  in  Pussia  the  word  is  the 
same.  One  side  of  this  square  is  occupied  by  the  long 
fa9ade  of  tlie  Gostinoi  Dvor,  an  immense  bazaar,  cut  by 
streets,  roofed  with  glass  like  owv  jxtssages,  and  contain- 
ing not  less  than  six  thousand  shops.  The  encircling 
wall  of  the  Kremlin,  or  Kreml,  rises  at  the  farther  ex- 
tremity with  its  peaked-roofed  towers  through  which 
are  cut  entrances,  and  showing  above  its  crenellated 
tops  tiie  cupolas,  bell-towers,  and  spires  of  the  convents 
and  churches  within.  At  the  other  corner,  strange  as 
the  architecture  of  dreamland,  rises,  like  a  chimera,  the 
impossible  church  of  Yassili  Blagennoi,  wliich  makes 
one  doubt  the  witness  of  his  eyes.  There  it  stands  witli 
all  the  appearances  of  reality,  and  you  ask  yourself  if 
this  is  not  a  mirage  of  the  fancy,  an  edifice  of  cloudis 
tinted  by  the  sunset,  liable  at  a  breath  of  wind  to  change 
its  shape  or  to  vanish  away.  It  is,  without  any  doubt, 
the  most  original  building  in  the  world,  reminding  one 
of  nothing  he  has  ever  seen  before,  and  belonging  to  no 
style  ;  a  gigantic  madrepore,  you  might  say, — a  colossal 
crystallization,  an  inverted  grotto  of  stalactites.  But  it 
is  useless  to  seek  for  comparisons  to  give  an  idea  of 
something  which  has  neither  like  nor  prototype.  Let 
me  rather  attempt  to  describe  it,  if  indeed  there  exists 
a  vocabulary  to  speak  of  a  thing  so  unforeseen. 


MOSCOW.  253 

Tliero  is  a  legend  about  Yassili  Llagennoi,  M'liich 
probably  is  not  true,  but  which  does  not  the  less  express 
with  force  and  poetry  the  admiring  stupor  that  this  edi- 
lice,  so  singular  and  so  independent  of  all  architectural 
traditions,  must  have  produced,  in  the  scmi-burbarous 
time  in  wliich  it  was  erected.  Ivan  the  Terrible  ordered 
the  con.-^truction  of  this  church,  by  way  of  thank-offer- 
ing for  the  taking  of  Kazan  ;  and  when  it  was  iinislied, 
he  found  it  so  beautiful,  admirable,  and  surprising, 
that  he  commanded  the  architect's  eyes  to  be  put  out, 
that  he  might  never  build  elsewhere  others  like  it! 
According  to  a  different  version,  the  czar  asked  the 
architect — said  to  be  an  Italian,  by  the  way — if  he  could 
construct  a  still  more  beautiful  building;  and, receiving 
an  aflii'mativc  reply,  ordered  his  head  taken  off,  that 
Vassili  Blagennoi  might  remain  forever  unrivalled.  It 
is  impossible  to  imagine  a  cruel  act  more  flattering  by 
reason  of  the  j(!alousy  which  caused  it ;  Ivan  the  Terri- 
ble must  have  been  at  heart  a  true  artist,  an  impassioned 
d'detttiiiie.  This  ferocity,  where  art  is  concerned,  dis- 
pleases mo  less  than  does  indiiference.  At  least  this  is 
certain  :  from  Vassili  Ulagennoi  no  second  proof  was 
o\er  struck  off. 

Imagine,  upon  a  kind  of  platform  isolated  by  sunken 
ground,  the  oddest,  the  most  incoherent,  the  most  amaz- 
ing accunuilation  of  cabins,  cells,  staircases  projected 
npoii  the  outside,  arched  galleries,  unexpected  recesses 
and  equally  unexi)ec.tcd  salient  portions,  unsymmctrical 
porches,  cha])C'ls  in  juxta[)osition,  windows  cut  through 
as  if  b}'  accident,  indescribable  forms  resulting  from  in- 
terior arrangenu^nt,  as  if  the  artist  had  begun  at  the 
heart  of  the  building,  and  had  done  all  his  work  from 
inside.  From  the  j'oof  of  this  edifice,  which  you  would 
take  for  a  Hindoo,  Chinese,  or  Thibetan  pagoda,  springs 
a  forest  of  bell-towers  in  the  strangest  taste,  and  fanci- 
ful to  an  una[)proachable  extreme.  The  central  one,  ihe 
highest  and  most  uiassive,  jiresents  three  cu"  four  stories 
between   the  roof  and  the  point  where  its  S[)ire  begins. 


25-1  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

First  there  are  colonnettcs  and  denticulated  fillets ;  then, 
pihisters  enclosing  long,  mullioned  windows ;  finally, 
small  arches  superposed  one  npon  another  lilce  scales ; 
and,  on  the  sides  of  the  spire,  crosiers  indenting  each 
angle ;  the  whole  terminated  by  a  lantern  snrmoanted 
by  "an  inverted  golden  bulb,  bearing  the  Russian  cross 
upon  its  point.  The  others,  less  every  way  in  size,  as- 
sume shapes  like  minarets,  and  their  fantastically 
carved  turrets  terminate  in  the  odd  expansion  of  their 
onion-shaped  cupolas.  Some  are  hammered  into  facets, 
others  ribbed  ;  these  are  cut  diamond-wise,  like  tlie  rind 
of  the  pinea]>ple,  those  have  spiral  stripes;  others  arc 
im.bricated  with  scale-work,  lozenged,  figured  in  a  honey- 
comb pattern  ;  and  all  carry  at  their  sunnnits  the  cross, 
adorned  with  golden  balls. 

What  adds  still  further  to  the  fantastic  eifect  of 
Vassili  Blagennoi,  is  that  it  is  painted  from  base  to 
summit  with  the  most  incongruous  colors,  which,  how- 
ever, produce  a  harmonious  whole  delightful  to  the  eye. 
lied,  blue,  apple-green,  yellow  bring  out  the  important 
divisions  of  the  architecture.  (JJolonnettes,  capitals, 
arches,  ornaments  are  painted  in  different  sliades,  giv- 
ing them  a  very  high  relief.  In  the  rare  flat  surfaces, 
divisions  are  simulated,  panels  containing  pots  of  flow- 
ers, rosettes,  ciphers,  fanciful  figures.  The  domes  of 
the  bell-towers  are  adorned  with  branching  designs 
wliich  suggest  India  shawls,  and,  placed  as  they  are  on 
the  roofs'  of  the  church,  they  resemble  sultans'  kiosks. 
M.  ilittorf,  the  apostle  of  polychromatic  architecture, 
would  behold  in  this  church  a  brilliant  confirmation  of 
his  theories. 

That  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  the  enchantment 
of  the  scene,  particles  of  snow,  caught  by  the  projec- 
tions of  the  roofs,  the  friezes,  and  the  ornaments,  adorn 
with  silvery  spangles  the  painted  attire  of  Vassili  Bla- 
gennoi, and  sow  with  a  thousand  sparkling  points  this 
marvellous  decoration. 

Postponing  to  another  day  my  visit  to  the  Ki-emlin,  I 


MOSCOW.  255 

at  once  entered  the  chnrch  of  Vassili  Blagennoi,  whose 
odd  exterior  excited  to  tlie  lii^-hest  degree  my  curiosity 
to  see  whether  the  within  fullilled  the  pi-oniise  of  tlie 
Avitliout.  The  same  fanciful  taste  had  pj-esidod  over 
the  interior  arrangement  and  decoration.  A  lirst,  h)W- 
walled  chapel,  wherein  flickered  a  few  lamps,  was  like 
a  cavern  of  g(jld ;  unexpected  gleams  flashed  into  the 
tawny  shadows,  and  brought  out  like  ghosts  the  rigid 
pictm-es  of  Greek  saints.  The  mosaics  of  St,  Mark's  at 
Venice  give  an  approximative  idea  of  the  wonderful 
richness  of  this  effect.  In  the  farther  end  the  iconos- 
tase  lifted  itself  up  like  a  golden  wall  between  the 
faithful  and  the  arcana  of  the  sanctuary,  in  a  kind  of 
half-darkness  traversed  by  rays  of  light.  Vassili  Bla- 
gennoi does  not  present,  as  do  other  churches,  one  com- 
mon interior  composed  of  many  naves  communicating 
with  each  other  and  mutually  intersecting  at  given 
points  in  accordance  with  the  exigences  of  the  ritual, 
wluitever  it  nuiy  be,  observed  in  each  building.  It  is 
formed  by  a  bundle  of  churches  and  chapels,  tied  to- 
gether, so  to  speak,  not  individually  independent. 
Each  bell-tower  has  its  own  chapel,  arranging  itself  as 
best  it  can  in  this  mould.  Tlie  cliapcl-roof  is  the  inside 
of  the  spire,  or  is  the  bulb  of  the  cupola.  You  fancy 
yourself  inside  an  enormous  helmet  of  some  Tartar  or 
Circassian  giant.  These  vaults,  furthermore,  are  mngni- 
flcently  painted  and  gilded  within.  It  is  the  same  with 
the  walls,  covered  with  flgures  intentionally  and  hierat- 
ically  barbarous,  after  a  pattern  which  the  monks  of 
Mount  Athos  have  preserved  from  age  to  age,  and 
•which,  in  Russia,  more  than  once  deceives  the  inatten- 
tive observer  in  relation  to  the  age  of  religious  ediflces. 
It  is  a  strange  sensation  to  And  yourself  in  these  mysteri- 
ous sanctuaries,  where  personages  well  known  to  tlie 
Catholic  faith,  mingled  with  special  saints  of  the  Greek 
calendar,  seemed,  with  their  constrained,  archaic,  By- 
zantine aspect,  to  be  awkwardly  translated  in  gold  by 
the  childish  devotion  of  some  primitive  tribe.     These 


256  ^  WMTEB  m  RUSSIA. 

sacred  figures,  resembling  idols,  which  look  out  at  you 
throLigli  apertures  in  the  precious  metal  of  the  iconos- 
tase,  or  stand  up  stiifly  upon  the  gilded  walls,  opening 
their  great,  fixed  eyes,  raising  their  brown  hands  with 
fingers  bent  in  a  symbolic  fashion,  produce  with  their 
witd,  extra-human,  immutably  traditional  aspect,  a  relig- 
ious impression  which  the  works  of  a  more  advanced 
art  could  not  occasion.  These  figures,  amid  the  gleaming 
of  gold  and  by  the  flickering  light  of  lamps,  readily  as- 
sume a  kind  of  phantom  life,  capal)le  of  impressing 
naive  imaginations,  and  inspiring  in  the  declining  day- 
light a  certain  sacred  horror. 

Narrow  corridors,  low-arched  galleries  where  you 
touch  the  wall  with  each  elljow  and  are  forced  to  bend 
your  head,  wind  about  among  these  chapels,  and  give 
access  from  each  to  the  others.  There  is  nothing  more 
whimsical  than  these  passages ;  the  architect  seeins  to 
have  taken  pleasure  in  making  a  tangle  of  them.  You 
go  up  and  down,  out-doors  and  in  again ;  you  go  around 
outside  a  tower  upon  a  cornice  ;  you  walk  along  in  a  wall 
by  tortuous  windings  like  the  capillary  tubes  of  madre- 
pores or  the  roads  that  borers  trace  under  the  bark  of 
wood.  After  so  many  turns  and  returns  your  head 
whirls,  you  are  seized  with  dizziness,  and  you  can  al- 
most imagine  yourself  the  mollusk  of  some  gigantic 
shell.  I  do  not  speak  of  the  mysterious  nooks,  the  in- 
exi)licable  blind  ways,  the  lovf  doors  that  lead,— -one 
knows  not  whither, — the  obscure  stairs  going  down  into 
the  dc[)ths ;  I  should  never  end  if  I  attempted  fully  to 
describe  this  building,  wherein  one  v/alks  as  amid  the 
architecture  of  dream-land. 

The  vv'intcr  days  are  short  in  Russia,  and  already  in 
the  deepening  shadows  the  lamps  before  the  holy  pic- 
tures were  beginning  to  shine  more  brightly,  as  I 
emerged  fromVassili  Blagennoi,  auguring  well,  from 
this  specimen,  of  the  picturesque  wealth  of  Moscow.  I 
had  just  been  experiencing  that  rare  sensation,  the 
search  for  which  dri\es  the   traveller  to  the  ends  of 


MOSCOW.  257 

the  earth.  I  had  seen  something  tliat  exists  nowhei-e 
else.  Therefore — I  confess  it— the  bronze  group  of 
Minine  and  Poyarsky  which  stands  near  the  Gostinoi 
Dvor  and  faces  "^the  Kremlin,  affected  me  but  little  as  a 
work  of  art ;  and  yet  the  sculptor  who  composed  this 
g-i'oup,  M.  Martoss,  does  not  lack  talent.  But  in  com- 
parison Avitli  the  wild  license  of  Vassili  Blagennoi,  his 
work  appeared  to  me  too  cold,  too  correct,  too  rationally 
academic.  Minine  was  a  butcher  of  Nijni  Ts^ovgorod, 
who  raised  an  army  to  drive  out  the  Poles,  at  that  time 
masters  of  Moscow,  and  gave  the  command  of  it  to 
Prince  Poyarsky.  These  two,  the  inan  (^f  the  peo])le 
and  the  grand  seigneur^  delivered  the  Holy  City  from 
strangei-s,  and  on  the  pedestal,  which  is  ornamented  with 
bas-reliefs  of  bronze,  is  I'ead  this  inscription  :  "  To  the 
mujik  Minine,  and  to  the  prince  Poyarsky,  grateful 
Hussia  ;  in  the  year  1818." 

In  travelling"^  I  make  it  a  rule,  nnless  where  time  is 
too  pressing,  to  stop  short  when  the  impression^  is  vivid. 
There  is  appoint  at  which  the  eye,  saturated  with  forms 
and  colors,  denies  itself  to  the  absorption  of  new  as- 
pects. Nothing  more  can  be  received, — as  when  a  vase 
is  full  to  the  brim.  The  anterior  image  remains,  and  is 
not  effaced.  In  this  condition  you  "look,  but  you  no 
longer  see.  The  retina  has  not  time  to  be  sensitized 
fora  new  impression.  This  was  my  case  in  emerging 
from  Yassili  Blagennoi,  and  the  Kremlin  deserves  a 
fresh  look,  a  virgin  eye.  So,  after  casting  a  last  glance 
at  the  extraordinary  towers  of  the  cathedral  of  Ivan  the 
Terrible,  I  was  about  to  call  a  sledge  to  return  to  my 
hotel,  when  I  was  arrested,  upon  the  Ivrasnaia,  by  a 
singular  noise  which  caused  me  to  lift  my  eyes  to  the 
sky. 

Crows  and  ravens  were  sweeping  through  the  air, 
croaking  as  they  tlew,  sombre  punctuation-marks  upcm 
the  grayish  sky.  They  were  returning  to  their  nests  in 
the  Kremlin,  but  this  was  only  the  advance-guard.  Soon 
came  denser  battalions.     From  all  points  of  the  hori- 


258  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

zon,  bands  were  flying  Iiitherward,  seemingly  obeying  the 
orderof  their  chiefs  and  accomplishing  a  strategic  march. 
The  black  swarms  were  not  all  at  the  same  height,  and 
seemed  to  arrange  themselves  in  zones,  actually  darken- 
ing the  air  in  their  flight.  Their  number  was  aug- 
mented from  moment  to  moment.  There  were  cries 
and  flapping  of  wings,  to  that  degree  that  you  could 
not  have  heard  yourself  speak ;  and  ever  new  phal- 
anxes arrived  overhead,  coming  to  increase  the  prodig- 
ious council  of  state.  I  had  no  idea  there  were  so 
many  crows  and  ravens  in  the  world.  Without  exag- 
geration, they  might  have  been  counted  by  hundreds 
of  thousands  ;  even  this  figure  seems  too  modest ;  — by 
millions,  would  come  nearer  the  truth.  It  recalled  to 
me  xVudubon's  account  of  the  passage  of  flocks  of  birds 
in  America,  which  obscure  the  sun,  throw  a  shadow  on 
the  earth  like  clouds,  bend  down  the  forests  whereon 
they  alight,  and  do  not  seem  at  all  diminished  by  the 
innnense  massacres  the  sportsmen  m.ake  among  them. 
These  innumerable  bands,  having  effected  a  junction, 
whirled  about  over  the  Krasnaia,  rising,  descending, 
describing  circles,  and  making  all  the  noise  of  a*  great 
storm.  At  last  the  winged  multitude  seemed  to  have 
formed  a  resolution,  and  every  bird  directed  his  flight 
towards  his  nest.  In  an  instant  the  belfries,  cupolas, 
roofs,  towers,  pinnacles,  were  wrapped  in  black  M'hirl- 
winds  and  deafening  cries.  They  fought  with  another 
fiercely  for  their  places.  The  smallest  hole,  the  nar- 
rowest cleft  which  might  oifer  a  shelter  was  the  object 
of  a  desperate  siege.  By  degrees,  the  tumult  died 
away  ;  each  one  had  housed  himself  as  best  he  could ; 
not  a  croak  was  to  be  heard — not  a  raven  was  to  be  seen ; 
and  tlie  sky,  just  now  dotted  all  over  with  black  specks, 
had  resumed  its  livid  gray  in  the  twilight.  You  ask 
yourself  wherewith  can  these  myriads  of  evil  birds  be 
fed  who  could  devour  at  one  repast  all  the  dead  bodies 
of  a  defeat?  and,  above  all,  how,  when  the  ground  is 
covered  for  six  months  with  its  shroud  of  snow  !     The 


MOSCOW.  250 

offal,  tlic  (lead  animals,  and  the  carrion  of  a  city  conld 
not  surely  suffice.  Perhaps  they  eat  each  other,  like  rats 
in  time  of  famine  ;  but  in  that  case  their  number  would 
not  1)0  so  innnense,  and  they  would  iinally  disappear ; 
whereas  they  are  full  of  life  and  vigor  and  joyous  tur- 
bulence. Their  mode  of  alimentation  remains  not  the  less 
a  mystery  to  me,  and  proves  that  the  instinct  of  the  irra- 
tional ci-eature  finds  i-es(nirces  in  nature,  where  the  rea- 
son of  the  human  being  can  see  none. 

My  companion,  wdio  witnessed  this  spectacle  with  me, 
— but  without  astonishment,  for  it  was  not  the  first  time 
that  he  had  seen  "  the  ravens  of  the  Kremlin  come  home," 
— said  to  me:  "Since  we  are  here  npon  the  Krasuai, 
and  only  a  few  steps  from  the  best  Russian  i-estaurant  in 
Moscow,  let  us  not  return  to  dinner  at  the  hotel,  where 
the  repast  they  offer  us  will  be  pretentiously  French. 
Your  traveller's  palate,  well  accustomed  to  exotic  viands, 
will  be  tolerant  of  some  local  color,  and  you  will  admit 
that  what  is  food  for  one  man  is  food  for  another.  Let- 
lis  come  in  here  ;  we  shall  have  chtclii,  caviare,  roast  pig, 
sterlets  from  the  Vcjlga,  with  salted  cucnmbers  and 
liorse- radish,  accompanied  by  kwas  (one  should  accpiaint 
himself  with  everything )  and  iced  champagne.  Will 
that  bill  of  fare  suit  you?  " 

Lr])on  receiving  an  affirmative  response,  the  friend  who 
was  kind  enough  to  serve  as  my  guide,  conducted  me 
to  the  restaurant  at  the  end  of  the  Gostinoi  Dvoi',  just 
opposite  the  Kremlin.  We  ascended  a  well-heated  stair- 
case, and  entered  a  vestibule  which  had  the  look  of  a 
fur-shop,  where  the  sei'vants  relieved  us  of  onr  pelisses, 
and  hung  them  up  against  the  wall,  whence,  in  due  sea- 
son, they  were  safely  restored  to  lis, — as  usual  without 
check  or  number  to  indicate  the  owuei-ship  ! 

In  the  first  hall  we  found  the  customary  bar-room, 
with  its  bottles  of  kunnnel,  of  Vodka,  brandy,  and 
other  liquors,  and  the  caviare,  herrings,  anchovies, 
smoked  beef,  moose  and  reindeer  tongues,  cheese,  and 
pickles.     One  of  those  Cremona  organs,  with  play  of 


200  A  WmTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

trumpets  and  beating  of  drums,  whicli  tlie  Italians  carry 
about  the  streets  on  a  little  cart  to  which  is  harnessed  a 
horse,  was  placed  against  the  wall,  and  a  mujik,  turning 
a  crank,  amused  us  with  an  air  from  some  lashionable 
opera.  A  succession  of  rooms  —  near  whose  ceilings 
hovered  the  bluish  smoke  of  pipes  and  cigars — extended, 
to  so  great  a  distance  that  a  second  Cremona  at  the  re- 
mote end  was  playing,  without  cacophou}^,  a  different 
air  from  the  one  performed  by  the  fii'st ;  thus  we  dined 
between  Donizetti  and  Verdi. 

That  which  gave  this  restaurant  a  characteristic  phys- 
iognomy, was  that  the  service,  instead  of  being  rendered 
by  Tartars,  travestied  as  waiters  of  the  Three  Brothers, 
was  frankly  committed  to  mujiks.  Here,  at  least,  we 
had  the  sensation  of  being  in  Russia.  These  mujiks, 
young  and  of  good  figure,  the  hair  parted  in  the  mid- 
dle, the  beard  carefully  combed,  the  throat  bare,  wear- 
ing the  pink  or  v/hite  summer  tunic  belted  at  the  waist, 
and  the  full  blue  trousers  tucked  into  the  boots,  with 
all  the  freedom  of  a  national  costume — looked  extremely 
well,  and  exhibited  much  natural  elegance.  They  had, 
most  of  them,  hair,  of  that  light  chestnut  color  which 
tradition  attributes  to  the  hair  of  Christ,  and  the  feat- 
ures of  two  or  three  were  distinguished  by  that  Greek 
regularity  which  is  found  more  frequently  among  the 
men  in  Russia  than  among  the  women.  Thus  costumed, 
in  their  attitude  of  respectful  attention,  they  had  the  air 
of  anticpie  slaves  on  the  threshold  of  a  tridinitim. 

After  dinner  I  smoked  a  few  pipes  of  extremely 
strong  Russian  tobacco,  and  drank  two  or  three  glasses 
of  excellent  "  caravan  tea,"  listening  the  while  absent- 
mindedly  to  the  music  from  the  Cremona  organs  athwart 
the  vague  murmur  of  conversation,  and  well  content 
with  having  eaten  "  local  color." 


XVII. 

THE   KREMLESr. 

WE  naturally  imagine  the  Kremlin  blackened  by 
time, — smoked  to  that  sombre  tint  which  pervades 
our  ancient  structures,  and,  as  we  think,  contributes  to 
their  beauty  in  rendering  them  venerable.  In  France, 
we  even  carry  this  idea  so  far  as  to  give  a  wash  of  soot 
and  water  to  the  restorations  which,  from  time  to  time, 
we  have  occasion  to  make,  in  order  to  take  away  the 
crude  whiteness  of  the  stone  and  bring  it  into  harmony 
with  the  older  portions  of  the  edifice.  A  very  high 
civilization  nnist  have  been  obtained  before  this  senti- 
ment can  be  understood,  and  a  value  attached  to  the 
traces  which  centuries  here  left  npon  the  epidermis  of 
temples,  palaces,  and  fortresses.  Like  all  uncultured 
people,  the  Russians  prefer  what  is  new,  or,  at  least, 
what  seems  so,  and  they  believe  that  they  manifest  re- 
pect  for  their  ancient  buildings  in  renewing  their  painted 
dress  as  soon  as  it  is  in  the  least  degree  frayed  or 
ravelled.  They  are  the  greatest  whitcwashers  in  (he 
world.  Nor  do  they  stop  short  at  the  old  I>yzantine 
frescos  which  adorn  the  inside  and  even  the  exterior  of 
their  churches,  but  repaint  them  at  once,  as  soon  as  the 
colors  begin  to  grow  dull,  so  that  these  pictures, 
solemnly  antique  and  primitively  barbaric  as  the}'  seem, 
are  often  restoi-ations  of  yesteixlay.  It  is  notunconnnon 
to  see  some  ordinary  house-painter  perched  aloft  on  a 
frail  scaffolding,  retouching  a  Madonna  with  all  the 
trnnquillity  of  a  monk  of  Mount  Athos,  and  filling  up 
witli  fresli  coloring,  tlie  old,  unchanging  contour.  It  is 
needful,  therefore,  to  be  extremely  guarded  in  pro- 
nouncing upon  the  value  of  these  paintings,  which — if  I 


262  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

may  so  speak — have  teen  ancient,  but  are  now  al- 
top;ctlior  modern,  notwitlistanding  tlieir  rigid  outlines 
and  hieratic  savagery. 

This  little  preamble  has  no  other  end  than  to  prepare 
the  reader  for  a  picture  in  bright  colors,  instead  of  the 
vs'ild,  austere,  and  sombre  one  which  he,  with  his  west- 
ern ideas,  has  dreamed  of. 

The  Kremlin,  always  regarded  as  the  Acropolis,  the 
Holy  Place,  the  Palladium,  the  very  heart  of  Russia, 
had  originally  only  the  same  protection  which  Athens 
had  against  the  first  Persian  invasion ;  namely,  a  pali- 
sade of  sti-ong  oaken  posts.  Dmitri  Douskoi  replaced 
this  palisade  by  crenellated  walls,  and  these,  having  be- 
come old  and  dilapidated,  were  rebuilt  by  the  czar  Ivan 
III.  It  is  this  wall  whicli  exists  to-day,  but  often  re- 
paired and  restored  in  many  places.  Coatings  of  rough- 
cast, thickl}^  laid  on,  hide  the  wounds  which  time  has 
made  and  the  black  traces  of  the  great  fire  of  1812, 
vrhich  indeed  was  able  only  witli  its  tongue  of  flame  to 
lick  this  exterior  wall.  The  Kremlin  has  points  of  re- 
semblance to  the  Alhambra.  Like  the  Moorish  fortress, 
it  occupies  the  plateau  of  a  hill,  enclosing  it  with  a  wall 
flanked  by  towers;  it  contains  royal  abodes,  churches, 
squares,  and,  amid  tlie  ancient  buildings,  a  modern 
palace,  as  much  out  of  ])lace  there  as  is  the  palace  of 
Charles  Fifth  amid  the  delicate  Saracenic  architecture 
whicli  it  crushes  with  its  ponderous  mass.  The  tower 
of  Ivan  Yeliki  is  not  without  resemblance  to  tlie  Torre 
de  la  Yela ;  and  from  the  Kremlin,  as  from  the  Al- 
hambra, you  enjoy  a  magnificent  view,  a  picture  whose 
enchantment  the  surprised  eye  retains  forever.  But  do 
not  push  the  comparison  too  far,  lest  it  give  way  under 
the  strain. 

It  is  odd,  but,  seen  from  a  distance,  the  Kremlin  has 
perhaps  something  more  oriental  than  the  Alhambra 
itself,  whose  massive  reddish  towers  in  no  wise  betray 
the  splendors  within.  Above  the  crenellated  wall  of 
the    Kremlin,    and    between    its    towers    with    their 


THE  KREMLIN.  2G3 

ornamented  roofs,  seein  to  rise  and  fall  like  golden  bub- 
bles, the  myriads  of  cupolas  and  bulbous  boll-towers, 
with  their  metallic  sheen,  and  Hashing  reflections  of 
sunlight.  The  white  wall — a  silver  basket — contains 
this  bouquet  of  golden  flowers,  and  you  feel  as  if  yon 
had  before  your  e>'es  one  of  those  fairy  cities  which  the 
imagination  of  the  Arab  story-teller  builds  in  such 
lavish  abundance, — an  architectural  crystalHzation  from 
the  Thousand  and  One  Nights.  And  when  winter  has 
powdered  with  its  diamond  dust  these  edifices  strange 
as  a  dream,  you  might  fancy  yourself  transported  to 
another  planet,  for  nothing  like  this  has  ever  before  met 
your  eye. 

I  entered  the  Kremlin  by  the  Spasskoi  gate,  which 
opens  upon  tiie  Krasnaia.  No  entrance-way  could  be 
more  romantic.  It  is  pierced  through  an  enormous 
square  tower,  before  which  is  a  kind  of  porch  or  out- 
building. The  tower  is  three  stories  in  heiijht,  each 
story  retreating,  and  is  surmounted  by  a  spire  resting 
upon  open  arches.  The  double-headed  eagle,  holding 
the  globe  in  his  claw,  stands  upon  the  point  of  this 
spire,  which  is  octagonal,  like  the  story  it  surmounts, 
ribbed  at  the  angles,  and  gilded  upon  the  flat  surfaces. 
Each  face  of  the  second  story  bears  an  enormous  dial, 
so  that  the  tower  shows  th6  time  of  day  towaixls  each 
point  of  the  horizon.  Add,  on  ledges,  here  and  there,  a 
few  touches  of  snow  l)y  way  of  effect,  and  you  have 
some  idea  of  the  aspect  oi:  this,  the  principal  tov/er, 
springing  up  in  three  jets  from  the  denticulated  wall 
which  it  interrupts. 

Tiie  Spasskoi  gate  is  the  object  of  such  veneration  in 
Kussia,  by  reason  of  some  sacred  picture  or  tlie  legend 
of  some  miracle,  concerning  which  I  was  not  able  to  in- 
form myself  exactly,  that  no  man  may  pass  tln-ough 
it  witli  covered  head,  were  it  the  Autocrat  himself. 
Any  irreverence  in  this  res])ect  would  be  regarded  as 
sacrilege,  and  might  be  dangerous.  Therefore  strangers 
are  warned  of  the  custom.     You  are  not  merely  re- 


2G4  A  WINTER  IN  RUS3IA. 

quired  to  salute  the  sacred  pictures  at  the  entrance  of 
the  porch,  before  which  lamps  are  burning  perpetually, 
but  to  remain  uncovered  till  you  emerge  from  be- 
neath the  archway.  Now  it  is  not  very  agreeable  to 
carry  your  fur  cap  in  your  hand,  at  a  temperature  of 
— 24°  all  the  way  through  a  long  passage  down  wliich 
draws  a  glacial  wind.  But  one  must  conform  to 
national  usage,  whether  it  be  to  take  off  your  cap  under 
tiie  Spasskoi  gate,  o]'  your  boots  at  the  threshold  of  the 
Solimanieh  or  the  Saint  Sophia.  The  true  traveller 
will  offer  no  objection,  though  he  catch  a  frightful  cold 
in  the  head. 

Emerging  from  this  archway,  you  find  yourself  upon 
the  esplanade  of  the  Kremlin,  amid  the  most  splendid 
mass  of  palaces,  churches,  and  monasteries,  of  which  it 
is  possible  to  conceive.  All  this  belongs  to  no  known 
style  of  arcliitecture.  It  is  not  Greek,  it  is  not  Bj'zan- 
tine,  it  is  not  Gothic,  it  is  not  Saracenic,  it  is  not 
Chinese.  It  is  Russian, — it  is  Muscovite.  Kever  did 
architecture  more  free,  more  original,  more  careless  of 
rules, — in  a  word,  more  romantic, — realize  in  visible 
forms  its  wildest  caprices.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  re- 
semble the  accidents  of  crystallization.  Still,  cupolas, 
bell- towers,  with  bulb  of  gold,  are  really  the  character- 
istics of  this  style,  which  seems  to  acknowledge  no  law, 
and  by  them  it  may  be  recognized  at  sight. 

Below  this  esplanade,  whereon  are  grouped  the  prin- 
cipal edifices  of  the  Kremlin,  creeps — following  the 
slope  of  the  ground,  with  many  windings  and  turnings 
— the  rampart,  lined  with  a  road  all  the  way,  and  fianked 
with  towers  of  an  infinite  variety  of  shapes,  some  round, 
other  square ;  these,  slender  as  minaiets ;  those,  mas- 
sive as  bastions ;  with  retreating  stories,  square-sided 
roofs,  open  galleries,  lanterns,  spires,  scale-work,  ribs, — 
all  conceivable  methods  of  coifiing  a  tower.  Battle- 
ments, cutting  deep  into  the  wall,  notched  at  their  sum- 
mit like  the  cleft  in  an  arrow,  are  alternately  whole  or 
pierced  by  an  opening.     I  cannot  speak  of  the  value  of 


THE  KREMLIN.  2G5 

tins  fortification  from  tlio  strategic  point  of  vievr,— but 
from  the  poetic,  it  fully  satisfies  the  imagination, 
and  o;ivcs  the  idea  of  a  formidable  citadel. 

Between  the  rampart  and  the  platform  bordered  by 
a  balustrade,  extend  gardens,  now  powdered  with  snow, 
and  a  picturesque  little  church  raises  its  bulbous  bell- 
towers.  Beyond,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  unfolds  a 
vast  and  marvellous  ])anoi-amic  view  of  Moscow,  the 
crest  of  the  wall,  toothed  like  a  saw,  furnishing  an  ad- 
mirable foreground  and  relief  for  the  distant  effects, 
which  no  art  could  improve. 

The  Moskwa,  about  as  broad  as  the  Seine,  and  sinuous 
like  that  river,  sm-rounds  with  its  curve  all  this  side  of 
the  Kremlin,  and  from  the  esplanade  you  look  dov\'n 
upon  it  lying  far  below,  frozen  solid,  and  resembling 
opaque  glass,  for  the  snow  has  been  s\vept  oif  fi-cmi 
this  portion  of  the  river  to  make  a  trotting-course  for 
hoi-ses  in  training  for  some  approaching  races  upon  the 
ice. 

The  quay,  which  is  bordered  with  superb  buildings 
of  modern  "^architecture,  forms,  with  its  solid,  regular 
masonry,  a  kind  of  foundation  of  straight  lines  for  the 
vast  mass  of  houses  and  roofs  which  stretch  away  to 
the  horizon  line,  raised  l)y  perspective,  and  by  the  height 
of  the  point  of  view. 

A  tine  frost — let  Mery  shiver  if  he  must ! — having 
swept  from  the  sky  that  great,  monotonous  cloud  of 
yelU)wish  gray  which  was  diawn,  the  evening  before, 
like  a  curtain  along  the  darkened  horizon,  a  measural)ly 
bright  azure  tinted"  the  circular  canvas  of  this  panorama, 
and  the  increasing  cold,  by  crystallizing  the  snow,  re- 
newed its  whiteness.  The  pale  sunlight — such  as  it  is 
in  Moscow  in  January,  in  those  short,  wintry  days  which 
suggest  the  nearness  of  the  pole — slid  obliquely  across 
the  city  spread  out  fan-wise  around  the  Kremlin,  and 
grazed  the  snow-covered  roofs,  making  them  sparkle 
here  and  there  like  mica.  Above  these  white  roofs, 
resembling  the  foam-flakes  of  a  congealed  tempest,  rose 
12 


266  ^  WlNTEIt  IN  RUSSIA. 

like  rocks,  or  like  bUips,  the  loftier  masses  of  the  public 
buildings,  temples,  and  mouasteries.  Thej  say  that 
Moscow  contains  more  than  three  hundred  churches  or 
convents ;  I  do  not  know  if  the  iigures  are  exact  or 
purely  hyperljolical,  but  it  appears  quite  a  reasona]:)l3 
statement,  when,  from  the  heights  of  the  Kremlin,  it- 
self containing  a  great  number  of  churches,  chapels,  and 
religions  edifices,  you  look  down  upon  the  city  which 
lies  beneatli  you. 

Nothing  more  beautiful,   more  rich,  more  splendid, 
more  like  fairy-land  can  be  imagined  than  these  cupolas 
surmounted  by  Greek  crosses,  these  bell-towers  shaped 
like  bulbs,  these  six  or  eight  sided  spires,  ribbed  at  the 
angles,  cut  out  in  open-work,  curving,  spreading  out  wide, 
rising  sharply  to  a  point,  above  the  motionless  tumult 
of    snowy    roofs.      The    gilded    cupolas    catch    reflec- 
tions of  wondrous  transparency,  and  the  light  on  the  sa- 
lient point  is  concentred  there  into  a  star  which  shines 
like  a  lamp.     Domes  of  silver  or  of  tin  seem  to  coif 
churches  in  the  moon  ;   farther  on,  there  are  casques  of 
azure  starred  with  gold,  circular  roofs  made  of  plates 
of  beaten   copper  imbricated   like   dragon-scales ;    or, 
perhaps,  inverted  onions,  painted  green  and  frosted  here 
and  there  with  snow ;    then,  as  the  distance  increases, 
details   disappear  even  under  the  field-glass,  and  you 
distinguish   onl}''  a  sparkling  crowd   of  domes,  spires, 
towers,   campaniles,  of  every  imaginable  shape — their 
silhouettes,  a  dark  line  against  the  bluish  distance, — their 
i-elief  indicated  by  one  spangle  of  gold,  of   silver,  of 
copper,  of  sap])hire,  or  of  emerald.     To  complete  the 
picture,  imagine  upon  the  cold,  bluish  tints  of  the  snow 
some  faintly  crimsoned  streamers  of  light,  pale  roses  of 
the  polar  sunset  sown  upon  the  ermine  carpet  of  a  Rus- 
sian winter. 

I  stood  there,  insensible  to  cold,  absorbed  in   mute 
contemplation,  as  in  a  kind  of  admiring  stupor. 

No  other  city  gives  this  impression  of  absolute  nov- 
elty, not   even    Venice,   for   which  Oaualetto,  Guardi, 


THE  KREMLIN.  26T 

Boniiigtoii,  Jo^'ant,  Wyld,  Ziem,  and  the  photographs, 
have  long  ago  prepared  us.  Up  to  this  time  Moscow 
has  rarely  been  visit(Kl  by  artists,  and  its  peculiar  as- 
pects have  been  seldom  reproduced.  The  rigorous 
Northern  climate  adds  to  the  singularity  of  the  scene 
by  effects  of  snow,  the  wonderful  coloring  of  its  skies, 
and  a  quality  of  light  differing  from  ours  at  home, — ■ 
and  makes  up  a  special  palette  for  the  Russian  painter, 
whose  correctness  is  not  readily  understood  outside  the 
country. 

Upon  the  esplanade  of  the  Kremlin,  with  this  panoi'- 
ama  unfolded  l)ef()re  your  eyes,  you  feel  that  you  are 
indeed  in  another  land,  and  the  Frenchman  most  in  love 
with  Paris  does  not  regi-et  the  rivulet  of  the  liue  de 
Hac. 

The  Kremlin  contains  within  its  walls  a  great  number 
of  churches,  or  cathedrals,  as  the, Russians  call  them. 
So,  too,  u}Km  its  narr(^w  plateau,  had  the  Acropolis  its 
nuiltitude  of  temples.  Vv'^e  will  examine  several  of  the 
churches  of  the  Kremlin,  but  let  us  stop  first  at  the 
tower  of  Ivan  Veliki,  an  enormous  octairon,  havino: 
three  retreating  stories,  of  which  the  last,  from  above  a 
zoue  of  ornaments,  becomes  a  round  turret,  and  ends 
with  a  bulbous  cup'.^,  m-e-gilt  with  ducat-gold  and 
surmounted  by  a  Greek  cross,  its  foot  set  in  the  con- 
quei-ed  crescent.  At  every  story,  arches  opening  in  the 
walls  of  the  tower  reveal  the  brazen  sides  of  a  bell. 
They  are  thirty-three  in  number,  and  among  them  is 
said  to  be  the  famous  bell  of  Novgorod,  whose  stroke 
used  to  call  the  people  to  the  tumultuous  deliberations 
of  the  public  square.  One  of  these  bells  weiglis  not 
less  than  seventy  tons  ;  beside  this  metallic  monstei",  the 
great  bell  of  Notre  Dame,  of  which  Quasimodo  was  so 
proud,  would  seem  nothing  more  than  a  hand-bell  such 
as  tliey  ring  at  mass. 

We  obtain  still  further  demonstration  of  their  passion 
iu  Russia  for  colossal  bells;  close  by  the  tower  of  Ivan 
Yeliki,  upon  a  base  of  granite,  the  astonished  eye  per- 


26S  ^  WINTER  m  PMSSTA. 

ceives  a  bell  so  enormous  that  it  looks  like  a  bronze 
tent,  and  the  more  because  a  great  fissure  forms  in  its 
side  a  kind  of  door  by  which  a  man  may  enter  easily 
without  lowering  his  head.  It  was  cast  by  order  of  the 
Empress  Anne,  and  ten  thousand  pounds  of  metal  were 
put  into  the  furnace.  It  was  M.  de  ]\lontferrand,  the 
Frencli  architect  of  St.  Isaac's,  who  had  it  lifted  out  of 
the  ground,  in  which  it  had  been  half  l)uried,  either  by 
the  violence  of  a  fall  while  they  were  originally  setting 
it  up,  or  in  consequence  of  a  fire  or  the  breaking  down 
of  a  building.  Has  a  mass  like  this  ever  been  hung  ? 
Has  its  iron  tongue  ever  flung  forth  a  sonorous  tempest 
from  that  monstrous  shell  ?  History  and  legend  are 
alilre  mute  upon  this  point.  Perhaps,  like  some  ancient 
pe(»ple  who  used  to  leave  in  their  al)andoned  camps, 
bedsteads  a  dozen  feet  long,  to  make  it  seem  that  they 
belonged  to  a  race  of  giants,  the  Russians  have  sought 
by  this  bell,  disproportionate  to  all  imman  use,  to  give 
remote  posterity  a  gigantic  idea  of  themselves,  if,  after 
many  ages,  this  bell  should  be  found,  in  the  course  of 
some  excavation  ! 

However  this  may  l)e,  tlie  bell  has  beauty,  like  all 
things  Ijeyond  ordinary  diuiensions.  The  grace  of  mon- 
pti'ous  size,  a  grace  wild  and  fierce,  but  real,  is  not  lack- 
ing to  it.  Its  sides  sweep  out  in  broad  and  mighty 
curves  encircled  by  delicate  ornaments.  A  globe  sur- 
mounted by  the  cross  crowns  it ;  the  eye  is  gi-atitied  by 
the  purity  of  its  contour,  and  even  the  very  fracture  it- 
self opens  like  the  mouth  of  some  brazen  cavern,  mys- 
terious and  sombre.  At  the  foot  of  the  socle,  like  a  door 
broken  ivora  its  hinges,  lies  the  fragment  of  metal 
corresponding  with  the  aperture  in  the  bell. 

But  enough  of  bells ;  let  ns  enter  one  of  the  most  an- 
cient and  characteristic  cathedrals  of  the  Kremlin,  tiie 
first  one  built  of  stone,  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption, 
— in  Kussian,  the  Ousi)enskossal)or.  This  one  before  our 
eyes  is  not,  it  is  true,  the  original  edifice  founded  by 
Ivan  Kalita.     That,  after  a  century  and  a  half  of  eidst- 


THE  KREMLIN.  2G9 

eiice,  fell  to  ruins,  {iiul  was  presently  rebuilt  by  Ivan  III. 
The  existiuii^  church  dates,  then,  only  from  the  fifteenth 
century,  desi)ite  its  Byzantine  air  and  its  archaic  aspect. 
I  was  surprised  to  learn  that  it  istheworkof  Fioraventi, 
a  Bolognesc  architect,  whom  the  Russians  call  Aristotle, 
on  account  of  his  great  knowledge.  The  idea  which 
would  be  naturally  suggested  to  the  mind,  is  of  some 
Greek  architect  called  from  Constantino])le,  his  head  still 
full  of  Saint  Sophia  and  the  Greco-Oriental  types  of  ar- 
chitecture. The  Assumption  is  nearly  a  S(piare  building, 
and  its  great  walls  spi-ing  upward  with  a  wonderful 
pride.  Four  enormous  pillars,  as  large  as  towers,  mighty 
as  the  columns  of  Karnak,  support  the  central  dome 
placed  upon  a  flat  roof  in  the  Asiatic  style,  and  ilaidced 
by  four  lesser  cupolas. 

This  arrangement,  sim])le  as  it  is,  produces  an  imposing 
effect,  and,  without  an  appearanc^e  of  heaviness,  these 
massive  pillars  give  a  firm  base  and  extraordinary  sta- 
bility to  the  inside  of  the  Iniilding. 

Tlie  interior  of  the  church  is  completely  covered  with 
Byzantine  paintings  upon  gold  backgrounds.  Thepillai-s 
themselves  are  adorned  with  figures,  rising  in  zones  one 
above  another,  like  the  cobnnns  of  temples  or  of  Egyp- 
tian palaces.  There  is  nothing  more  singular  than  this 
style  of  decoration  where  myriads  of  figures  surround 
you, — a  mute  crowd,  ascending  and  descending  along  the 
walls,  marching  in  files,  a  Christian  Panathenaia, — stand- 
ing alone  in  an  attitude  of  hieratic  stiffness, — bending 
over  in  ])endentives,  vaults,  and  cupolas, — di'aping  the 
temple  with  a  human  taj)estry,  motionless,  yet  ever  seem- 
ing astir  with  life.  Light,  falling  sparingly  and  at  rare 
intervals,  adds  still  further  to  the  mysterious  and  dis- 
quieting effect.  The  tall,  wild-looking  saints  of  the 
(ireek  calendar  assume,  in  this  tawny  and  golden  dark- 
ness, a  really  formidable  apjiearance  of  life;  they  look 
at  you  fixedly,  and  they  seem  to  threaten  with  their 
hc'-uds  extended   in  benediction. 

Militant  archangels,  knightly  saints,  with  courtly  and 


270  -4  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

soldierly  bearinj^,  are  seen  in  their  shining  armor  amid 
the  dai-k-hued  frocks  of  monkish  saints  and  anchorites. 
They  have  that  proud  air,  that  remnant  of  tlie  antique 
contour,  wliich  distinguishes  the  figures  of  Pansehnos, 
the  Byzantine  master,  from  the  work  of  whose  pn]>il, 
the  monk  of  Aghia  Lavra,  Papety  has  made  such  line 
drawings.  The  interior  of  Saint  Mark's  at  Yenice, 
with  its  look  of  a  gilded  cavern,  gives  an  idea  of  the 
Cathedral  of  the  Assumption  ;  but  the  interior  of  the 
Muscovite  church  springs  u])ward  with  one  impulse  tow- 
ard the  skj',  while  the  vault  of  St.  Mark's  is  crushed 
mysteriously  downwards  like  a  crypt. 

The  iconostase,  a  lofty  wall  of  gilded  silver,  whicli  looks 
like  the  facade  of  some  goldc]!  palace,  is  absolutely  daz- 
zling  v/ith  fabulous  magnificence.  Through  apertures  in 
the  goldsmith's  work  appear  tlie  ])rown  heads  and  hands 
of  Mad(mnas,  and  of  male  and  female  saints.  Their 
aureoles  in  relief,  catching  the  light,  sparkle  with  the 
facets  of  tlie  precious  stones  set  in  their  rays,  and  flame 
like  real  glories ;  to  those  pictures  which  are  regarded 
with  special  veneration,  are  fastened  breast-plates,  col- 
lars, and  bracelets,  starred  with  diamonds,  sapphires, 
mines,  emeralds,  amethysts,  pearls,  turcpioises;  the 
madness  of  pious  luxury  seems  here  to  have  reached  its 
height. 

What  a  fine  motif  of  decoration  is  supplied  by  the 
iconostase,  a  veil  of  gold  and  precious  stones,  drawn  be- 
tween the  belief  of  the  faitiif ul  and  the  mysteries  of  the 
Holy  Sacrifice !  The  Russians  turn  it  to  marvellously 
good  account ;  and  it  must  be  owned  that  in  sumptuous 
display,  tlie  Greek  is  not  inferior  to  the  Catholic  religion, 
although  it  be  so  in  the  domain  of  pure  art. 

In  a  shriue  of  inestimable  price,  in  the  Cathedral  of 
the  Assumption,  is  preserved  the  vesture  of  our  Lord. 
Two  other  reliquaries,  dazzling  with  gems,  contain,  one, 
a  piece  of  the  Virgin's  dress,  the  other,  a  nail  from  tlic 
true  cross.  The  Yirginof  Vladimir,  painted  by  St.  Luke's 
hand, — a  sacred  picture,  regarded  by  the  Russians  as  a 


THE  KREMLIN.  271 

pallatlium, — whose  exliibition  made  tlic  fierce  hordes  of 
Tiiiionr  drawback  and  flee,  is  adorned  with  a  solitaire, 
valued  at  more  than  a  linndred  thousand  francs,  and  the 
mass  of  goldsmith's  work  which  frames  the  picture  cost 
two  or  three  times  that  sum.  Doubtless  this  luxury  must 
seem  slightly  barbaric  to  a  refined  taste,  fonder  of  beauty 
than  of  opulence :  but  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that  these 
accumulations  of  gold,  these  diamonds  and  pearls,  pro- 
duce a  religious  and  splendid  effect.  These  madonnas — 
whose  jewels  are  more  costly  than  those  of  queens  and 
empresses — are  most  inposing  to  the  simple-minded 
worshipper.  In  this  half -obscurity,  by  the  vague  light 
of  lamps,  they  assume  a  supernatural  radiance.  Their 
diamond  crowns  scintillate  like  crowns  of  stars. 

From  the  centre  of  the  vaulted  roof  depends  an  im- 
mense chandelier  of  massive  silver,  of  beautiful  work- 
manship and  of  circular  form,  which  takes  the  place  of 
an  ancient  chandelier  of  great  weight,  carried  off  during 
the  French  invasion.  Forty-six  branches  are  attached 
to  it. 

In  the  Cathedral  of  the  Assumption  the  consecration 
of  the  emperor  takes  place.  The  staging  built  up  for 
the  occasion  stands  in  the  space  enclosed  by  the  four 
great  pillars  which  support  the  cupola,  and  faces  the 
iconostase. 

The  tombs  of  the  metropolitans  of  Moscow  are  ranged 
along  the  lateral  walls.  They  are  of  oblong  form,  and, 
seen"  there  in  the  shadow,  they  make  one  think  of 
trunks  packed  and  ready  for  the  grand  voyage  of 
eternity. 

The  cathedral  of  the  Holy  Archangels,  of  which  the 
fa9ade  is  turned  obliquely  towards  the  Church  of  the 
Assumption,  and  is  but  a'  few  steps  from  it,  presents 
no  essential  difference  of  plan.  We  find  always  the 
same  bulbous  cupolas,  massive  pillars,  an  iconostase 
glittering  with  gold,  and  the  Byzantine  paintings  clothing 
tlie  whole  interior  of  the  building  as  with  a  sacred  tap- 
esti-y.     Only  here  the  paintings  are  not  upon  gold  back- 


272  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA 

grounds,  and  have  tlie  look  of  frescos,  rather  than  of 
mosaics.  They  represent  the  scenes  of  the  Last  Judg- 
ment, and  also  portraits,  with  herce  and  hanghty  mien, 
of  the  ancient  czars. 

Here,  too,  are  their  tombs,  covered  with  cashmeres 
and  other  rich  stuffs,  like  the  tombs  of  the  Sultans  at 
Constantinople.  All  is  sober,  simple,  and  severe.  Death 
here  is  not  made  beautiful  by  the  delicate  blossoms  of 
Gothic  art,  which  in  other  lands  cluster  so  luxuriantly 
about  the  tomb.  No  kneeling  Angels,  no  theological 
Virtues,  no  weeping  emblematic  figures,  no  saints  in 
niches  of  open-work,  no  fanciful  scrolls  entwined  around 
heraldic  devices,  no  knights  clad  in  armor,  Uie  head 
upon  a  marble  cushion,  the  feet  upon  a  sleeping  lion  : 
only  the  corpse  in  its  funeral  coffer  covered  by  a  mor- 
tuary pall.  Doubtless  art  loses  by  this,  but  the  religious 
im])ression  is  enhanced. 

In  the  Cathedral  of  the  Annunciation,  built  against 
the  palace  of  the  czars,  they  call  your  attention  to  a  very 
rare  and  curious  painting,  which  represents  the  angel 
Gal^riel  appearing  to  the  Virgin  Mary  to  announce  to 
her  that  she  shall  be  the  mother  of  the  Lord.  The  in- 
terview occurs  near  a  well,  like  that  between  Jesus  and 
the  Samaritan  woman.  According  to  the  tradition  of 
the  Greek  church,  it  is  later,— after  her  humble  accpii- 
escence  in  the  will  of  God, — that  she  is  visited  in  her 
own  dwelling  by  the  Holy  Spirit. 

This  scene,  painted  upon  one  of  the  exterior  walls,  is 
protected  by  a  sort  of  awning  against  the  inclemency  of 
the  seasons.  To  give  an  idea  of  the  interior  richness  of 
the  church,  a  single  detail  will  suffice.  The  pavement 
is  made  of  agates  brought  from  Greece. 

At  the  side  of  the  new  palace,  and  but  a  few  steps 
from  these  churches,  is  a  strange  edifice,  belonging  to 
no  known  architectural  style,  Asiatic  or  Tartar  in  its 
aspect, — which,  for  a  secular  building,  is  much  what 
Vassili  Blageunoi  is  for  a  religious  one, — that  is  to  say, 
the  porfectiy  realized  chimera  of  a  sumptuous,  barbaric, 


THE  KREMLIN.  273 

fantastic  imaiLi^ination.  It  was  built  inider  Ivan  III.,  hy 
the  architect  Alcviso.  From  its  roof  sjn'iuiJ:  up  with 
graceful  and  picturesque  iiTegularit}%  the  iijoldeu-coilted 
turrets  of  the  chapels  and  oratories  which  ai-e  contained 
within  it.  An  exterior  staircase,  from  whose  top  the 
emperor  shows  himself  to  the  peojile  after  his  coronation, 
c;ives  access  to  the  huildinij:;,  and  by  its  ornamented  ])ro- 
jection  produces  a  tridy  ori<2;inal  architectural  incident. 
It  is,  at  Moscow,  what  the  Ciiants'  Staircase  is  at  Venice, 
and  is  called  the  Hed  Staii'case  (Krasnoi-Kriltosi). 

The  interior  of  this  palace,  the  residence  of  the  ancient 
czars,  seems  to  defy  description ;  yon  would  say  that  its 
halls  and  apartments  have  been  excavated  successi\ely 
and  without  fixed  j)lau,  in  some  enormons  block  of  stone, 
— in  such  an  odd,  confusing,  complicated  fashion  are 
they  entangled  amono-  themselves, — ^level  and  direction 
changing  at  the  caprice  of  an  unbridled  fancy.  \  on 
walk  through  them  as  in  adi'eam, — now  stopped  l)y  a  grat- 
ing which  opens  mysteriously  ;  nowforced  to  follow  a  nar- 
row, dark  passage-way  where  your  shonldei's almost  touch 
the  walls  ;  again,  finding  no  otlier  road  than  the  notched 
border  of  a  cornice,  whence  you  can  see  the  ])lates  of 
copper  of  the  roof,  and  the  bulbs  of  tlie  bell-towers; — 
ascending,  going  (hnvn,  no  longer  knowing  where  you 
are;  from  time  to  time  seeing  through  golden  trellis- 
work,  the  gleam  of  a  lamp  npon  some  iconostase ;  and 
emerging,  after  all  this  in-door  journey,  into  some  hall 
of  wikl  ornamentation  and  savage  splendor,  where  it 
pur])rises  you  not  to  find  the  Grand  Kniaz  of  Tartary 
seated,  cross-legged,  ui>on  his  mat  of  black  felt! 

Sueh  is,  for  example,  the  hall  they  call  the  Gilded 
Chamber,  which  occupies  the  whole  interior  of  the 
Granovitai'a  Palata — the  Facet  Palace — so  called,  doubt- 
less, l)ecanso  of  its  exterior  cut  in  diamond  shaped  blocks. 
This  l)uilding  adjoins  the  old  palace  of  the  czars.  The 
golden  vaubs  of  this  hull  are  SM[)ported  upon  a  centi'al 
])illar  by  means  of  elliptic  arches,  which  are  ])i'evented 
irom  spreading  by  thick  bars  of  gilded  iron  which  ci'oss 
13* 


274  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

them  from  side  to  side.  Here  and  tliere  are  a  few 
paintings,  dark-colored  stains  upon  the  yellow  splendor 
of  the  backo;round.  Around  tiie  arches  are  legends  in 
the  magnillcent  old  Slavonic  character.  No  decora- 
tion could  be  imagined  at  once  richer,  more  mysterious, 
more  sombre,  more  dazzling,  than  this  of  the  gilded 
cham])er.  Shakespearian  romanticism  would  delight  to 
place  here  the  d'nioueinent  of  a  drama. 

Certain  vaulted  luills  of  the  old  palace  are  so  low  that 
a  man  a  little  below  the  medium  height  can  scarcely 
stand  upright  in  them.  Hero  it  was  that,  in  an  atmos- 
phere heated  to  excess,  the  women,  crouched  in  oriental 
fasliion  upon  ])iles  of  cushions,  used  to  pass  the  long 
hours  of  the  Russian  winter,  looking  out  through  the 
little  Nvindows  to  see  the  snow  sparkle  upon  the  gilded 
cupolas,  and  the  ravens  describe  wide  spirals  around  the 
belfries. 

These  apartments,  with  their  parti-colored  decorations 
whose  palm-leaves,  foliage,  and  flowers  recall  cashmere 
})atterns,  seem  like  Asiatic  harems  transported  into  a 
polar  climate.  The  true  Musftovite  taste,  falsified  later 
by  a  misconceived  imitation  of  \7estern  art,  appears  here 
in  all  its  primitive  originality,  and  with  its  sharp  bar- 
baric flav(n'.  I  have  often  remarked  that  the  progress 
of  civilizati(m  seems  to  deprive  nations  of  a  feeling  for 
architecture  and  for  ornament.  The  ancient  ediiices  of 
the  Kremlin  prove  yet  once  more,  how  true  is  this  seem- 
ingly paradoxi(;al  assertion.  A  fancy  absolutely  inex- 
haustible presides  over  the  decoration  of  these  mysteri- 
ous chaml)ers,  where  gold  and  green  and  blue  and  red 
mingle  with  rare  felicity,  and  produce  charming  effects. 
This  ai-chitecture,  utterly  careless  of  symmetrical  corre- 
spondences, rises  like  a  mass  of  soap-bubbles  blown 
upon  a  plate  through  a  tube  of  straw.  Each  little  cell 
takes  its  place,  and  makes  its  own  arrangement  of  angles 
and  facets;  and  the  whole  glitters  with  all  the  tints  of 
the  rainbow.  This  comparison,  puerile  and  grotesque 
as  it- seems,  expresses,  better  than  any  other,  the  method 


THE  KREMLIN.  275 

of  aggregation  of  those  palaces, — so  fantastic,  and  yet 
real. 

It  is  in  this  style  that  I  could  have  wished  the  new 
(  })alace  ;  but  it  is,  however,  a  vast  edifice  of  m<xleni  con- 
struction which  might  elsewhere,  perhaps,  have  some 
beauty,  but  which,  in  the  midst  of  the  old  Kremlin,  is 
most  incongruous.  Classic  architecture,  with  its  grand, 
cold  outlines,  is  more  wearisomely  solemn  than  ever 
amid  these  grotesque,  high-colored  palaces,  and  this  tu- 
multuous crowd  of  churches,  darting  towards  heaven  a 
g'ildcd  forest  of  cujiolas,  domes,  pyramidal  towers,  and 
bulbous  belfries.  You  might  believe  yourself,  at  sight 
of  this  Muscovite  architecture,  in  some  chimerical 
Asiatic  city, — you  could  easily  take  the  cathedrals  for 
mosques,  the  belfries  for  minarets;  but  the  rational 
fa9ade  of  the  new  palace  would  bring  3'ou  back  to  the 
very  heart  of  the  West  and  of  civilization:  a  sad  thing 
for  a  romantic  savage  like  myself  ! 

AVe  enter  the  new  palace  by  a  statel}'  flight  of  stairs, 
closed  at  the  top  by  a  magniiicent  grating  of  polished 
iron,  which  is  opened  a  little  way  to  admit  the  visitor. 
You  then  nud  yourself  beneath  the  lofty  vault  of  a 
domed  hall,  where  sentinels,  never  relieved  of  their  duty, 
are  on  guard  :  four  figures,  clad  from  head  to  foot  in 
antique  and  curious  Slavonic  armor.  These  knights  are 
really  grand ;  they  actually  seem  to  be  alive ;  you  feel 
as  if  a  heart  were  beating  under  their  coats  of  mail. 
These  mediaeval  suits  of  armor  set  up  in  this  way  al- 
ways cause  me  an  involuntary  shiver,  so  faithfully  do 
they  preserve  the  external  semblance  of  the  man  who 
is  gone  forever ! 

From  this  rotunda  two  galleries  lead,  whi(,*h  contain  in- 
estimable treasures :  the  store-house  of  the  Kali})h  Ilaroun- 
al-Raschid,  the  wells  of  Aboul-Kasem,  the  Green  Vaults 
at  Dresden,  all  together,  could  present  no  such  accunui- 
lation  of  wonders ;  and  here  historic  value  is  added  to 
that  merely  material.  In  these  galleries  scintillate  and 
flash,  and  dart  forth  prismatic  rays,  diamonds  and  sap- 


276  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

phires,  rubies,  emeralds,  all  those  precious  stones  that 
avaricious  nature  hides  deep  in  her  mines,  are  here  to  be 
seen  in  as  lavisli  abundance  as  though  they  were  but  glass. 
They  are  in  constellations  upon  the  crowns  ;  they  tip 
with  light  the  points  of  the  sceptres ;  they  run  down  in 
dazzling  rain  over  the  insignia  of  empire,  forming 
arabesques  and  ciphers  till  they  almost  conceal  the  gold 
of  their  setting.  The  eye  is  dazzled,  and  the  reason 
scarcely  dares  conjecture  the  sums  which  this  magniii- 
cence  must  represent.  To  essay  to  describe  tliis  pro- 
digious jewel-box  were  folly.  A  book  would  not  sutiice 
for  it.  We  must  be  content  with  a  description  of  a  few 
of  the  most  remarkable  pieces.  One  of  the  most  ancient 
crowns  is  that  of  Vladimir  Monomaqne.  It  was  a  pres- 
ent fi'om  the  Emperor  Alexis  Comnenes,  and  was 
brought  from  Constantinople  to  Kief  b}^  a  Greek  em- 
bassy in  1116.  Besides  its  value  as  a  historic;  memento, 
it  is  a  work  of  exquisite  taste.  Upon  a  foundation  of 
gold  filigree  work  are  set  pearls  and  precious  stones,  ar- 
ranged with  an  admirable  understanding  of  ornamenta- 
tion. The  crowns  of  Kazan  and  of  Astrakan,  of  oriental 
style,  one  sown  with  turquoises,  the  other  surmounted 
by  an  enormous  uncut  emerald,  are  jewels  to  drive  a 
modei-n  goldsmith  to  despair!  The  Siberian  crown  is 
made  of  cloth  of  g<)ld  ;  like  all  the  rest,  it  has  a  Greek 
cross  upon  its  summit,  and,  like  them,  is  starred  with  dia- 
monds, pearls,  and  sapphires.  The  golden  sceptre  of 
Yladimir  Monomaque,  about  three  feet  long,  contains 
two  hundred  and  sixty-eight  diamonds,  three  hundi'cd 
and  sixty  rubies,  and  fifteen  emeralds.  The  enamel 
which  covers  the  rest  of  the  su)-face  represents  religious 
subjects  treated  in  the  Byzantine  style.  This  also  was 
a  present  from  the  Emperor  Alexis  Comnenes,  as  well  as 
the  reliquary  in  the  shape  of  a  cross,  containing  a  frag- 
ment of  stone  from  the  tomb  of  Christ  and  a  bit  of  wood 
fi'om  the  cross,  A  mjlden  casket  roiii^li  with  i»:cms  con- 
tarns  this  treasure.  A  curious  jewel  is  the  chain  of  the 
first  of  the  Romanoffs,  of  which  every  link  bears  en- 


TUB  KREMLIN.  277 

jyraved,  following  a  ])ra,yer,  one  of  the  titles  of  tlie  czar. 
Tliere  arc  iiinetj-.iiinc !  It  is  impossible  to  speak  par- 
ticularly of  the  thrones,  the  globes,  sceptres,  and  crowns 
of  ditferent  reigns  ;  but  I  observed  that,  though  the  value 
remains  as  great,  the  purity  of  taste  and  beauty  of  work- 
manshij)  diminish,  as  we  approach  the  modern  epoch. 

Another  thing  not  less  wonderful,  but  more  accessible 
to  description,  is  the  hall  devoted  to  gold  and  silver 
])late.  Annind  ])illars  are  arranged  circular  credence- 
tables,  rising  in  many  stages  like  a  dresser  supporting  a 
world  of  vases,  tankards,  flagons,  mugs,  goblets,  jugs, 
decanters,  pitchers,  ladles,  tiny  casks,  cups,  beer-mugs, 
tumblers,  ])int3,  llasks,  gourds,  ampliora3, — everything  re- 
lating to  JJeuverie,  as  says  Master  Kabelais,  in  his  Pan- 
tagruelic  language !  Behind  these  vessels  of  gold  and 
silver,  gleam  platters  of  gold  and  of  gilded  silver,  as 
large  as  those  off  which  Victor  Hugo's  l>urgi-aves  were 
served  with  oxen  roasted  whole.  Each  jar  is  coiffed 
with  its  nimbus.  And  what  jars  !  Some  of  them  are 
as  nnich  as  three  or  four  feet  in  height,  and  could  only 
be  lifted  by  the  hand  of  a  Titan.  What  enormous  ex- 
pense of  imaginaticm  in  this  variet}'  of  plate  !  All  forms 
capable  of  containing  any  beverage — wine,  hydromel, 
beer,  kwas,  bi-andy — seem  to  be  i-epresented  here.  And 
how  rich,  fantastic,  grotesque,  the  taste  shown  in  the 
ornamentation  of  these  vases  of  gold,  of  silver-gilt,  and 
of  silver  !  Sometimes  there  are  bacchanals,  with  merry, 
chubl)y  faces  dancing  around  the  vessel's  paunch;  now, 
leafage  with  animals  and  hunting-scenes  appearing 
through  it;  at  other  times,  dragons  curling  I'ound  the 
ears,  t>r  anti<pie  medallions  set  into  the  sides  of  a  jug; 
a  lioman  triumph  defiling  by,  with  its  trumpets  and 
standards  ;  Hebrews  in  the  costumes  of  Dutchmen  bear- 
ing the  bunch  of  grapes  from  the  Promised  Land  ;  some 
mythological  imdity  contemplated  by  Satyrs  through  the 
tufted  ai'abesques.  In  accordance  ^^•ith  the  artist's  whim, 
the  vases  take  on  the  form  of  animals;  spread  out  wide 
in  bears ;  run  up  tall  and  slim  in   storks ;   flap  great 


27S  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

wings  as  eagles  ;  pnif  tlietiiselves  out  in  frogs ;  or  throw 
back  horns  of  stags.  Farther  on,  I  noticed  a  comf  t-box 
shaped  like  a  sliip  with  swelling  sails  and  carved  poop, 
the  dainties  within  to  be  taken  out  through  the  hatcli- 
ways.  Every  possible  whim  of  goldsmith's  work  is  to 
be  found  realized  upon  this  wondrous  sideboard. 

The  hall  of  armor  contains  treasures  to  weary  the  pen 
of  the  most  intrepid  nomenclator.  Circassian  casques 
and  coats  of  mail  inscribed  with  verses  from  the  Koran  ; 
bucklers  with  bosses  of  filigree ;  cimetars  and  iMndjars 
with  nephrite  handles  and  scabbards  set  with  gems  ;  all 
those  Eastern  Aveapons,  which  are  jewels  as  well  as  arms, 
gleam  amid  Western  weapons  of  a  simplicity  the  most 
severe.  At  sight  of  all  this  gathered  magnificence,  your 
liead  whirls,  and  you  cry  for  mercy  to  the  guide,  too  civil 
or  too  exact,  who  will  not  wrong  you  of  a  single  piece! 

I  was  especially  delighted  with  the  Capitulary  Halls, 
consecrated  to  the  different  orders  of  Russian  kniglit- 
liood.  The  St.  George,  St.  Alexander,  St.  Andrew,  and 
St.  Catherine  occupy  each  a  vast  hall,  wherein  the 
themes  of  ornamentation  are  derived  from  portions  of 
their  coats-of-arms.  The  heraldic  art  is  eminently  dec- 
orative, and  its  application  to  public  buildings  always 
produces  a  good  effect. 

One  may  imagine  without  detailed  description  the 
sumptuous  elegance  with  which  the  state  apartments  are 
furnished. 

Everything  richest  that  modern  luxury  can  furnish 
is  here ;  and  amid  all  the  splendor,  not  the  very  faintest 
suggestion  of  the  charming  Muscovite  taste.  It  was, 
perhaps,  inevitable,  considering  the  style  of  the  build- 
ing. But  I  must  own  I  was  indeed  surprised,  in  the 
last  room  of  the  suite,  to  find  myself  face  to  face  with  a 
pale  phantom  of  white  marble  clad  as  for  apotheosis, 
wlio  fixed  upon  me  his  great,  motionless  eyes, and  bent, 
wiih  meditative  air,  his  Homan  Caesar's  head  ; — Kapo- 
leon,  in  Moscow,  in  the  palace  of  the  czars, — this  was 
something  I  should  never  have  expected  to  see  ! 


XYIII. 

.  Tiio'i'rzA. 

WHEN  you  liavo  a  few  leisure  clays  in  Moscow, 
aftei*  tlie  principal  curiosities  have  been  seen, 
there  is  an  excursion  which  will  nndoubtedly  be  pro- 
posed to  you,  and  which  you  must  acce])t  with  eager- 
ness. It  is  a  visit  to  the  conveut  of  Troitza.  The 
journey  well  repays  you ;  no  man  ever  regretted  having 
made  it. 

So  it  was  decided  that  I  should  go  to  Tro'itza,  and  the 
Russian  friend  who  had  graciously  undertaken  to  be 
my  guide,  busied  himself  in  preparations  for  our  de- 
pjirture.  lie  engaged  a  kii)itka,  and  sent  forward  a 
relay  of  horses  to  await  us  on  the  i-oad  ;  for,  by  starting 
early,  the  distance  can  be  accomplished  in  a  hall-day, 
and  one  arrives  early  enough  to  get  a  general  idea  of 
the  buildings,  and  the  location.  It  was  enjoined  upon 
me  to  rise  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

A  habit  of  travelling  gives  the  faculty  of  waking  at 
the  precise  minute,  without  need  of  persistently  tintin- 
nabulating  alarm-clock.  So  1  was  on  foot  and  ready, 
having  fortilled  myself  with  a  slice  of  meat  and  a  glass 
of  very  hot  tea  (in  Moscow,  a  most  excellent  l)everage), 
when  the  kibitka  drew  up  before  the  hotel  door. 

In  trying  to  see  through  the  double  windows  what 
sort  of  weather  it  was,  I  made  the  observation  that  the 
thermometer  within  doors  registered  GO^  above  zero, 
and  the  thermouKiter  without,  BT^  below.  A  little  wind, 
which  had  cooled  itself  u])Ou  the  ice-fields  of  the  pole, 
had  been  blowing  througli  the  night,  and  had  brought 
on  this  glacial  relapse. 


280  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

Thirty-seven  degrees  below  zero  is  certainly  eiiongli 
to  give  a  shiver  to  the  least  sensitive  natures ;  happily  I 
had  already  nndergone  all  tlie  rigors  of  a  Russian  winter 
and  had  grown  aco-ustonied  to  these  temperatures,  made 
for  white  bears  and  the  reindeer.  Still,  as  I  was  to  re- 
main nearly  all  day  in  the  open  air,  I  attired  myself  ac- 
cordingly :  two  shirts,  two  waistcoats,  two  pairs  of  trous- 
ers, enough  to  clothe  from  head  to  foot  a  second  mortal; 
upon  my  feet,  woollen  socks,  and  boots  of  white  felt  en- 
closed in  other  furred  bo(^ts  coming  above  the  knee  ;  on 
my  head,  a  cap  of  beavei-'s  back,  warmly  wadded ;  for 
gloves,  Samoyed  mittens,  the  thumb  alone  articulated; 
and  ontside  of  all  an  enormons  fur  pelisse,  the  collar 
raised  in  the  back  as  high  as  the  top  of  the  head,  in  order 
to  defend  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  fastening  in  front 
with  hooks,  in  order  to  defend  the  face.  In  addition, 
a  long  strip  of  knitted  wool,  wound  live  or  six  times 
around  my  torso,  like  a  string  tied  with  many  knots 
around  a  bundle,  to  |)revent  any  hiatus  in  the  pelisse 
through  whicli  the  air  might  effect  an  entrance.  Thus 
arrayed,  I  resembled  an  ambulatory  sentry-box,  and,  in 
the  warm  air  of  my  room,  these  superposed  garments 
seemed  immensely  heavy,  and  quite  overwhelmed  me 
with  their  weight ;  no  sooner  did  I  tind  myself  in  the 
outside  air,  than  they  appeared  as  light  as  a  suit  of 
Chinese  grass-cloth. 

The  kibitka  was  waiting,  and  the  impatient  horses 
were  holding  down  their  heads,  shaking  their  long 
manes,  and  biting  at  the  snow.  A  few  words  of  de- 
scription concerning  my  vehicle:  the  kibitka  is  a  sort 
of  box,  whicli  resembles  a  cabin  quite  as  much  as  a 
carriage,  [)laced  npon  the  frame  of  a  sledge.  It  has  a 
door  and  a  window,  whicli  you  must  not  think  of 
chasing,  for  the  vapor  of  the  breath  condensed  upon 
the  glass,  would  change  to  ice,  and  you  would  find 
yourself  thus  deprived  of  air,  and  plunged  into  a  kind 
of  white  darkness. 

We  arranired  ourselves  as  best  we  could  within  the 


TROirZA.  281 

Ivibitka,  paclced  like  sardines  in  a  box- ;  for,  tlionri;Ii 
there  were  only  three  of  us-,  the  quantity  of  gannents 
with  which  we  were  loaded  made  ns  take  up  tlie  room 
of  six ;  as  an  additional  precaution,  they  threw  over 
onr  knees  travelling-rags  and  a  bear-skin,  and  we  set 

It  was  perhaps  four  in  the  morning.  In  the  blue- 
black  sky  tflie  stars  throbbed  with  vivid  schitillation 
and  that  keen  light  which  indicates  intensity  of  cold  ; 
the  snow,  under  the  steel  runners  of  the  kibitka, 
emitt(;d  a  sound  like  that  made  by  a  diamond  scratching 
on  glass.  Furthermore,  there  was  not  a  breath  of  aii* 
stirring,  you  would  have  said  that  the  very  wind  was 
congealed.  It  would  have  been  pot^sible  to  walk  with  a 
lighted  candle  hi  the  hand,  without  the  llame's  flicker- 
ing !  It  is  extraordinary  how  wind  adds  to  the  severity  of 
the  tempei'ature :  it  changes  inci't  cold  to  active  cold, 
and  convei'ts  particles  of  ice  into  the  steel  points  of 
arrows  !  It  was,  in  a  word,  what  at  Moscow,  towards  the 
end  of  January,  would  be  called  "•fine  weather." 

The  Ilut^sian  coachman  delights  in  going  fast,  and  it 
is  a  taste  which  his  horses  share  with  him.  It  is  need- 
ful to  moderate  rather  than  excite  them.  They  always 
start  off  at  full  speed,  and  a  person  who  is  not  accus- 
tomed to  this  vertiginous  rapidity  would  be  sure  to 
think  that  the  team  was  running  away.  Ours  did  not 
prove  derelict  in  this  respect,  and  galloped  madly 
through  the  silent  and  solitary  streets  of  Moscow, 
faintly  lighted  by  reflections  from  the  snow,  in  default 
of  the  dying  light  of  frozen  street-lamps.  Houses, 
churches,  public  buildings  went  by  rapidly  on  the  right 
and  left,  with  their  sombre  outlines  oddly  broken  or 
relieved  by  white  touches,  for  no  darkness  can  quite  ex- 
tinguish the  silvery  shining  of  the  snow.  Sometimes, 
cupolas  of  chapels,  seen  for  an  instant  in  passing,  had 
the  effect  of  helmets  of  giants,  I'ising  over  the  rampart 
of  a  fancied  fortress;  the  silence  was  broken  only  by 
the  niglit-watch,  who  walked  with  regular  step,  letting 


282  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

their  iron-sliod  staves  drag  behind  them  on  the  pave- 
ment, in  testimony  to  their  fidelity. 

At  the  pace  we  were  going,  extensive  as  is  the  city 
of  Moscow,  we  were  soon  outside  its  limits,  and  to  the 
street  succeeded  the  road.  The  houses  disappeared,  :md, 
on  either  side,  the  country  stretched  away,  vague  and 
wliite  under  the  nocturnal  sky.  There  is  a  strange  and 
odd  sensation  in  thus  traversing  at  full  speed  this 
colorless,  limitless  landscape,  wrajiped  in  its  monoto- 
nous whiteness,  resembling  a  lunar  plain,  men  and 
beasts  asleep  around  you,  and  liot  another  sound  to  be 
heard  besides  the  tramp  of  horses  and  the  cut  of  the 
runners  upon  the  snow.  You  might  believe  yourself  in 
an  uninhabited  globe. 

As  we  thus  gallo])ed  along,  our  conversation  happened 
— by  one  of  those  secret  transitions  which  Edgar  Poe's 
August  Diipin  so  well  knew  liow  to  explain,  and 
which  sometimes  elicit  remarks  that  seem  abrupt  even 
to  rudeness,  to  the  auditor  who  has  not  the  secret  of 
them — -upon  whom  ?  upon  what  ?  You  would  guess  in 
vain  a  thousand  times — upon  Robinson  Crusoe !  What 
circumstance  could  possibly  have  called  up  in  my  brain 
the  idea  of  Robinson  on  the  road  fron:i  Moscow  to 
Troitza,  between  five  and  six  in  the  morning,  with  the 
tliermometer  at  35°  below  zero,  not  at  all  suggestive  of 
the  climate  of  that  island  of  Juan-Fernandez,  in  which 
Defoe's  hero  passed  so  many  long  and  solitary  years !  A 
peasant's  isba,  built  of  logs,  outlined  for  an  instant  at 
the  roadside,  awakened  in  mo  a  confused  recollection  of 
tlie  house  made  of  trunks  of  trees  which  Robinson  Cru- 
soe constructed  at  the  entrance  of  his  grotto  ;  this  fugi- 
tive idea,  liowever,  was  just  disappearing  without  becom- 
ing attached  in  any  perccptil)le  way  to  the  present  situa- 
tion, when  the  snow,  at  wliich  I  was  unconsciously  look- 
ing, imperiously  recalled  the  image  of  Robinson,  at  that 
moment  vanishing  away  in  the  cloud  of  idle  reveries. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  book,  after  his  deliverance  and 
return    to   civilized   life,   Robinson  Crusoe  made  long 


TROITZA.  283 

journeys,  and,  traversini?  witli  liis  little  caravan  the 
snow-co\'QVQ,(\.  plains  of  Siberia,  is  attacked  by  a  troop 
of  wolves,  who  put  liis  flcsli  in  as  much  danger  as  did 
formerly  the  anthropophagi  who  landed  upon  his 
land. 

Thus  the  idea  of  Robinson  Crusoe  came  to  me,  in  ac- 
cordance with  a  logical  sequence,  secret  but  easily  de- 
duced by  an  attentive  mind.  Thence  to  pass  to  a  possible 
apparition  of  wolves  upon  the  road  was  inevitable.  So 
the  conversation  turned  of  itself  towards  this  subject, 
somewhat  exciting  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  snowy  soli- 
tude, siH)ttcd  here  and  tiiere  with  russet  ])atches  indicat- 
in:'-  foi-ests  of  ])ine  and  bircli.  Most  shocking  stories  of 
travellers  assailed  and  devoured  by  wolves  were  rehitcd  ; 
and  at  last,  by  way  of  climax,!  repeated  a  legend  \vlii(;h 
Balzac  once  told  me  with  that  enormous  gravity  with 
*  which  he  always  uttered  a  joke.  It  was  the  story  of  a 
Lithuanian  seigneur  and  his  wife,  going  from  their 
chateau  to  another,  where  a  ball  was  to  be  given.  Ly- 
ing in  ambush  at  the  edge  of  a  road,  a  pack  of  wolves 
awaited  the  carnage.  The  horses,  pushed  to  the  utmost 
by  the  coachman,  and  by  the  terror  which  these  fearful 
beasts  inspired,  broke  into  a  mad  gallop,  followed  by 
all  the  pack,  whose  eyes  gleamed  like  burning  coals  in 
the  moving  shadow  of  the  carriage.  The  seigneur  and 
the  lady,  more  dead  than  alive,  crouched  each  in  a  cor- 
ner, motionless  with  terror,  fancied  that  they  heard 
confusedly  behind  them,  groans  and  panting  breath, 
and  snapi)ing  jaws ;  at  last  the  chateau  is  reached,  and 
the  gate,  closing  after  them,  cuts  a  few  wolves  in  two  I 
Tlie""  coachman  stopped  under  the  inar(iuise^  and,  as 
no  one  got  down  to  open  tlie  carriage-door,  they  went 
to  look,  and  there  were  the  skeletons  of  the  two  lackeys, 
])icked  perfectly  clean,  still  standing  and  holding  on  to 
the  carriage  in  the  correct  position.  Vo'da  des  domes- 
iiques  hien  drcsnes,  Balzac  added,  et  comme  on  men 
ti'uiive j^Ihs  en  France! 

We  had  our  laugh,  but,  for  all  that,  nobody  could  be 


284  -4  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

sure  but  tliat  one  wolf,  or  many — famished  as  tliey 
are  at  this  time  in  the  winter — might  take  a  fancy  to 
give  ns  chase.  We  had  no  weapons,  and  our  only  safety 
would  have  been  the  speed  of  our  lioises  or  the  neigh- 
borhood of  some  farm-house.  Tliis  would  have  been  no 
joke  ;  but,  as  I  said,  we  had  our  laugh,  and  laughing 
drives  anxiety  away  ;  besides,  dayliglit  was  beginning  to 
a])pear, — daylight,  which  scattei's  cliimeras,  and  sends 
wild  beasts  to  their  lair.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  we 
did  not  see  the  tail  of  even  the  smallest  wolf ! 

The  night  had  been  radiant  with  stars,  but,  towards 
moi-ning,  fogs  had  arisen  from  the  horizon,  and  the 
Muscovite  Aurora  came  forth,  palHd  and  black  abc^ut 
the  eyes,  in  the  wan  light.  Perhaps  she  had  a  red  nose, 
but  Homer's  epithet,  "  the  rosj'  lingered,"  applied  to  the 
Greek  Aurora,  would  not  have  been  suited  to  her  at  all. 
However,  her  light  sufiiccd  to  show,  in  all  its  extent,  the* 
landscape, — melancholy,  yet  not  without  grandeur, — 
wliich  spread  out  around  us. 

It  may  be  suggested  that  my  descriptions  resemlde 
one  another  ;  but  monotony  is  a  characteristic  of  the  Hus- 
sian  landscape,  at  least  so  far  I  am  familiar  with  it.  It 
consists  of  immense  plains,  slightly  undulating,  where 
you  hnd  no  other  mountains  than  the  hillocks  on  wliicli 
are  built  the  Krendins  of  Moscow  and  of  Nijni-Nov- 
gorod,  not  higher  than  Montmartre.  The  snow,  covering 
this  ill-dellned  landscape  for  four  or  five  months  of  the 
year,  adds  yet  more  to  the  uniformity  of  its  aspect,  by 
filHng  up  hollows  in  the  ground  and  beds  of  water- 
courses, together  with  the  valleys  whicli  they  excavate. 
All  tiiatyou  see  for  hundreds  of  leagues  is  an  endless  white 
covering,  slightly  raised  here  and  there  by  inequalities 
in  the  concealed  soil,  and,  according  to  the  obliquity  of 
the  sun's  rays,  streaked  at  times  with  I'osy  lights  and 
bluish  shadows.  When,  however,  the  sky  has  its  ordi- 
nary tint — that  is  to  say,  a  leaden  gray — the  general 
color  is  a  lustreless  white,  or,  more  correctly,  a  dead 
white.     At  distances  more  or  less  remote  from  each 


TROl'TZA.  2S5 

otlier,  linos  of  reddish  l)rnslnvood,  half  Gmcrp;in£>;  from 
the  snow,  cut  tho  broad,  white  expanse.  Scattered 
birches  and  pines  fleck  the  landscape  with  dark  spots 
here  and  tliere  ;  and  posts,  like  those  for  telei^raj)!!- 
wires,  mark  out  the  road,  of  ten  buried  1)_y  driviii<);  snow- 
storms. Along  the  wayside,  lo<);-houses,  the  cliinl<s 
stuffed  wi'tli  moss,  the  rafters  of  the  roof  crossini!;  eacli 
other  and  making  on  top  a  kind  of  X,  Ijring  their  sliai'p 
peaks  into  line,  and  on  the  edge  of  the  horizon  is 
sketched  the  low  outline  of  some  distant  village,  over- 
to])i)ed  by  a  church  with  its  bulbous  cupolas.  Not  a 
living  thing,  save  flocks  of  crows  and  rooks,  and  some- 
times a  mnjik  on  his  sledge  drawn  by  shaggy  little 
horses,  hauling  wood  or  some  otlier  necessary  supplies, 
to  a  dwelling  far  in  the  country.  Such  is  the  pictnre 
re])roduced  to  statiety,  and  which  renews  itself  around 
you  as  3'ou  advance,  like  the  horiz<m  at  sea,  ever  re- 
newed 3'et  the  same,  as  tho  vessel  moves  forward.  Any 
picturesque  effect  is  rare,  and  yet  one  never  tii'os  in 
looking  out  into  this  vast  ex])anse,  which  inspires  a 
vague  melancholy,  like  all  things  that  are  groat,  silent, 
and  solitar3^  Sometimes,  in  spite  of  the  velocity  of 
tho  liorses, you  feel  as  if  you  must  be  standing  still. 

We  reached  the  relay,  whose  Kussian  name  I  ioi'get. 
It  was  a  wooden  house  with  a  court-yard  full  of  telegas 
and  sledges,  poor-looking  vehicles.  In  the  low  hall, 
mujiks  in  greasy  touloupos,  the  beard  blonde,  the  face 
red,  and  lighted  by  eyes  of  a  polar  blue,  were  gj'Ouj)ed 
around  a  copper  urn,  drinking  tea,  while  others  lay 
asleep  upou  benches  near  the  stove.  A  few,  still  more 
sus(^ej)tible  to  cold,  were  lying  upon  the  stove  itself. 

They  conducted  us  into  quite  a  high  room,  the  walls 
and  ceiling  all  of  plank,  like  a  pine  box  seen  from  with- 
in. It  was  lighted  by  a  small  double  window,  and  had 
no  other  ornament  than  a  picture  of  the  Virgin,  whoso 
aureole  and  garments  of  stamped  metal  gleamed  in  tho 
light  of  tlie  lamp  which  was  burning  before  it.  These 
mysteriously  embrowned  faces,  seen  through  apertures 


286  A  WINTEB  IN  RUSSIA. 

in  their  jTold  or  silver  shell,  havo  rar.ch  character,  and 
(tommaud  veneratiou  more  than  paintings  preferable 
from  an  artistic  point  of  view  could  do.  There  is  no 
hovel  so  poor  that  it  does  not  popsess  one  of  these  sacred 
pictures,  before  which  no  one  passes  v\uthout  uncovering 
the  head,  and  before  Vvdiich  thej  often  kneel  in  adoration. 

A  soft,  hothouse  temperature  reigned  in  this  room 
and  rendered  it  comfortable,  poorly  furnished  though  it 
was.  "We  laid  aside  our  pelisses  and  heavy  wrappings, 
and,  with  provisions  which  we  had  brought  with  us  from 
Moscow,  together  with  "caravan  tea"  steeped  in  the 
samovar  of  the  tavern,  we  made  our  breakfast.  After 
which,  resuming  our  heavy  armor  against  the  arrows  of 
AVinter,  we  installed  ourselves  once  more  in  our  kibitka, 
ready  to  brave  gayly  the  severities  of  the  cold. 

As  you  draw  near  Troitza,  dwelling-houses  become 
more  numerous.  You  feel  that  you  are  approaching 
something  of  importance.  Troitza  is,  indeed,  the  goal  of 
long  pilgrimages.  They  come  thither  from  all  the  provin- 
ces of  the  enipire,  for  Saint  Sergius,  the  founder  of  this 
celebrated  convent,  is  one  of  the  most  venerated  saints  of 
the  Greek  calendar.  The  road  which  leads  from  Moscow 
to  Troitza  goes  on  to  Yaroslaf,  and  in  summer  it  pre- 
sents, I  was  told,  a  most  animated  scene ;  it  passes 
through  Ostankina,  where  there  is  a  Tartar  camp, 
through  the  village  of  Rostopchin,  and  through  Alex- 
evskoi,  which,  a  few  years  since,  still  preserved  the 
ruins  of  the  chateau  of  the  Emperor  Alexis ;  and  when 
winter  has  not  covered  all  things  with  its  mantle  of 
snow,  you  remark,  all  about  you,  tasteful  country-houses. 
The  pilgrims,  clad  in  their 'armiaks,  and  wearing  shoes 
made  o?  the  linden-bark — when  they  do  not  go  bare- 
foot, as  a  matter  of  devotion, — walk  along  the  sandy 
road,  making  short  day's  journeys.  Families  travel  in 
kibitkas,  with  mattresses,  pillows,  cooking-utensils,  and 
the  indispensable  samovar, — like  migratory  tribes.  But 
at  the  time  of  our  excursion  the  road  was  perfectly 
solitary. 


TItOlTZA.  287 

Before  roacliinn^  TroTt;:;!,  flie  level  of  tlicgronnd  sinks 
,1  little,  liollowed  out,  pi'oijaMy,  b}'  some  water-course 
now  frozen  and  covered  with  snow.  Beyond  this  i-a- 
vine,  upon  a  broad  plateau,  stands  picturesquely  the 
Convent  of  St.  Serjijius,  with  its  look  of  a  fortress. 

It  is  an  immense  quadrilateral,  surrounded  by  solid 
ramparts  alons^  whose  tous  runs  a  covei'cd  gallery, 
pierced  by  bai'bacans,  which  ])rovides  shelter  for  the 
defenders  of  the  stronghold  ;  for  so  this  co^ivent,  which 
has  been  many  times  attacked,  may  suitably  be  called. 
Great  towers,  some  square,  some  hexagonal,  rise  at  the 
angles,  and  flank  the  walls  at  regular  distances. 

Some  of  these  towers  have  a  second  tower  springing 
from  amidst  a  balustrade  of  ])elfrics.  The  door  lead- 
ing into  the  interior  of  the  convent  is  cut  through  a 
square  tower,  in  front  of  which  extends  a  broad,  open 
space. 

Above  these  ramparts  rise,  with  gracefrd  and  pictur- 
esque irregularity,  the  roofs  and  cupolas  of  the  buildings 
which  com])05e  the  monastery.  The  innnense  refectory, 
whose  walls  are  painted  in  raised  diamond-shaped 
blocks,  attracts  the  eye  by  its  imposing  mass,  lightened 
by  the  belfry  of  an  elegant  chapel.  Near  it  are  the 
live  bulbous  domes  of  the  Church  of  tlie  Assumption, 
surmounted  by  the  Greek  cross ;  a  little  farther  on, 
overtopping  all  the  rest,  the  high,  many-colored  Trinity 
tower  carries  its  stories  up  with  turrets,  and  lifts  far  tow- 
ards the  sky  its  cross  ornamented  with  chains.  Other 
towers,  belfries,  and  roofs  are  outlined  c(>nf usedly  above 
the  belt  of  the  walls,  but  it  is  impossible  to  locate  them- 
accurately  in  a  description.  There  is  nothing  more 
charming  than  these  gilded  spires  and  cupolas,  with 
touches  of  silvery  snow  here  and  there  upon  them, 
springing  from  a  mass  of  buildings  painted  in  brilliant 
colors.     It  gives  the  effect  of  an  oriental  city. 

Across  the  square  is  a  great  hostelry,  more  like  a  car- 
avansary than  an  inn,  })lanned  for  the  reception  of  ])il- 
grims  and  travellers.     Here  we  put  up  our  carriage, 


288  ^  WINTER  IN  PMSSIA. 

and,  before  going  to  visit  the  monastery,  made  choice 
of  rooms  and  ordered  dinner.  The  accommodations 
wonld  not  compare  favorably  with  those  of  the  Grand 
Hotel,  or  Meiirice's;  but  aftei-  all,  it  was  quite  comfort- 
able for  the  place  ;  a  spring-like  temperature  prevailed 
in  the  apartments,  and  the  larder  seemed  to  be  well 
stocked.  The  lamentations  of  tourists  in  regard  to  the 
Ulth  and  vermin  of  Kussian  inns  surprise  me. 

Near  the  convent  gate  were  little  shops  containing 
various  small  wai'es  and  a  variety  of  those  curiosities 
whicli  travellers  love  to  carry  away  as  souvenirs.  There 
were  childi'en's  toys  of  primitive  simplicity,  colored 
with  amusingly  bad  taste ;  dainty  slippers  of  white  felt, 
bordered  with  pink  or  blue,  wherewith  Andalusian  feet 
could  scarce  be  shod;  furred  mittens,  Circassian  belts, 
spoons  and  forks  of  platina  niello-work,  models  of  the 
broken  bell  at  Moscow,  chaplets,  enamelled  medallions 
of  Saint  Sergius,  crosses  of  metal  or  wood,  containing 
a  crowd  of  microscopic  figures  of  Byzantine  style,  and 
legends  in  tlie  Slavonic  character;  loaves  of  fine  bread 
from  tlie  convent  l)a]cery,  bearing  stamped  on  their 
crust  scenes  from  the  Old  or  the  New  Testament, — not 
to  mention  the  heaps  of  apples  for  which  the  Russians 
have  so  great  a  liking.  A  few  mujiks,  purple  with 
cold,  kept  these  small  shops,  for  here  the  women,  with- 
out being  subjected  to  the  compulsory  seclusion  of  the 
East,  S(^arcely  mingle  at  all  in  out-door  life ;  you  sel- 
dom sec  them  in  the  streets.  Business  is  carried  on  by 
men,  and  the  shop-woman  is  a  type  unknown  in  Russia. 
This  remaining  apart  is  a  remnant  of  the  ancient  Asi- 
atic modesty. 

Upon  the  entrance-tower  are  painted  many  episodes 
in  the  life  of  Saint  Sergius,  the  great  local  saint.  Like 
St.  Ilochc  and  St.  Anthony,  St.  Sergius  has  his  favorite 
animal.  It  is  not  a  dog,  nor  a  pig,  but  a  bear, — a  wild 
beast  well  suited  to  figure  in  the  legend  of  a  Russian 
saint!  When  the  venerable  anchorite  was  living  in  his 
wilderness,  a  bear  prowled  about  the  hermitage,  with 


TROiTZA.  -  2S9 

iiilentioiis  evidently  hostile.  One  nioniinp;,  njion  open- 
ing his  door,  the  saint  found  the  bear  standing  up  and 
growling,  with  paws  outstretched,  ready  to  bestow  an 
accolade  that  was  anything  but  fraternal.  Sergius 
raised  his  hand  and  bestowed  his  benediction  npon  the 
animal,  who  fell  back  upon  his  fore-paws,  licked  the 
feet  of  the  saint,  and  followed  him  about  with  the  do- 
cility of  the  most  gentle  dog.  The  saint  and  the  bear 
thenceforth  kept  house  together  with  the  utmost  har- 
mony. 

Alter  a  glan(;e  at  these  pictures,  which,  if  not  ancient, 
have  all  the  effect  of  antiquity,  we  made  our  way  into 
the  interior  of  the  convent,  which  resembles  the  inside 
of  a  fortress ;  and  such,  indeed,  is  Troitza,  having  sus- 
tained many  sieges. 

A  few  lines  of  historic  detail  in  regard  to  this  mon- 
astery will  1)0  necessary,  pcrha|!S,  before  ].assing  to  a 
description  of  the  buildings  and  the  wealth  con'^taiued 
within  its  walls.  "  St.  Sergius  lived  in  a  cabin  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  forest  belonging  to  Gorodok,  and  there 
devoted  liimself  to  prayer,  fasting,  and  all  the  austeri- 
ties of  hermit-life.  Close  by  his  cabin,  he  reared  a 
church  in  honor  of  the  Holy 'Trinity,  and  thus  created 
a  religious  centre,  to  which  gatliered  the  faithful. 
Disciples  full  of  fervor  desired  to  reniain  with  thei]- 
master;  to  lodge  them,  Sergius  built  a  convent  which 
took  the  name  of  Troitza,  the  Russian  word  for  Trinity, 
in  accordance  with  the  designation  of  the  church  ;  and 
of  this  convent  he  was  elected  Superior.  This  occurred 
in  133S. 

The  care  for  his  own  salvation,  and  his  devotion  to 
lieavenly  things,  did  not  jircvent  St.  Sergius  from  taking 
an  interest  in  the  events  of  his  time.  The  love  of  God  in 
his  heart  did  not  extinguish  the  love  for  his  native  land. 
A  patriotic  saint  he  was,  and,  as  such,  is  still  the  object 
of  great  veneration  among  the  Russians.  It  was  he  vrho, 
in  the  time  of  the  great  Mongol  invasion,  excited  Prince 
Dmitri  to  march  against  the'lierce  hordes  of  Mamai  in 
13 


290  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

the  plains  of  the  Don  ;  and  in  order  to  unite  reli2;ion3 
enthusiasm  with  heroic  ardor,  two  monks,  designated  by 
Sergius,  accompanied  the  prince  into  battle.  The 
enemy  was  repulsed,  and  Dmitri,  in  his  gratitude,  en- 
dowed the  convent  of  Troitza  with  great  wealth,  an  ex- 
ample followed  by  princes  and  czars  ever  since,  among 
othei-s,  by  Ivan  the  Terrible,  who  was  one  of  the  most 
generous  benefactors  of  the  monastery. 

In  1393,  the  Tartars  attacked  Moscow,  and  made 
raids  about  the  envii'ons  in  the  Asiatic  manner.  Troitza 
even  then  was  too  rich  a  prey  not  to  excite  their  cupidity. 
The  convent  was  attacked,  pillaged,  burned,  reduced  to  a 
heap  of  ruins,  and  when — the  devastating  torrent  past — 
Nikon  returned  to  rebuild  the  monastery  and  bring  back 
to  it  the  fugitive  monks,  the  body  of  St.  Sergius  was  found 
under  the  ruins,  in  all  the  integrity  of  a  miraculous  pres- 
ervation. 

Troitza,  in  times  of  invasion  and  trouble,  has  been  an 
asylum  for  patriotism  and  a  citadel  to  nationality.  The 
Kussians,  in  1G09,  defended  themselves  here  for  sixteen 
months  against  the  Poles,  led  by  Iletman  Sapieha. 
After  many  unsuccessful  assaults,  the  enemy  was  com- 
pelled to  raise  the  siege.  Later,  the  convent  of  Saint 
Sergius  afforded  shelter  to  the  young  czars,  John  and 
Peter  Alexeiovitch,  fleeing  from  the  revolt  of  the  Stre- 
litz.  Peter  I.  also  sought  refuge  here  against  these  same 
Strelitz,  and  the  gratitude  of  the  illustrious  fugitives  en- 
riched Troiza,  on  their  accession  to  power,  and  made  it 
a  very  storehouse  of  treasure.  Since  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury Troitza  has  never  been  pillaged,  and  the  convent 
wonld  have  offered  magniiicent  plunder  to  the  French 
army,  if  they  had  pushed  their  advance  so  far,  and  if 
the  burning  of  Moscow  had  not  compelled  them  to 
retreat.  Czars,  princes,  and  boyards,  whether  through 
ostentation,  or  to  obtain  pardon  from  Heaven,  have 
endowed  Troitza  with  the  incalculable  riches  which  it 
now  contains.  The  sceptical  Potemkin,  none  the  less 
devout  towards  St.  Sergius  for  that,  offered  sumptuous 


TJiOiTZA.  291 

sacerdotal  vestments.  Beside  its  heaps  of  jewels, 
Troitza  ])os8cssed  a  hundred  thousand  serfs,  and  im- 
mense estates  wliich  Catherine  II.  secularized,  after 
compensatinj^  the  monastery  by  rich  gifts.  F<:)rmerly 
Troitza  l<)d<j;ed  within  its  cells  about  three  hundred 
monks  ;  to-day  there  is  scarcely  more  than  one-third  of 
tliat  number,  a  scanty  population  for  the  vast  solitudes 
of  the  immense  convent. 

Troitza  is  almost  a  city  ;  it  includes  nine  cliurches, — 
nine  cathedrals,  as  the  Kussians  call  them, — the  j)alace 
of  the  czar,  the  residence  of  the  archimandrite,  the  Ca- 
pitulary Hall,  the  refectory,  the  treasure-rooms,  the 
cells  of  the  biethren, mortuary  chapels,  and  ofhcesof  all 
kinds,  in  whose  construction  synnnctry  has  not  been  at 
all  considcHMl,  and  which  have  risen  at  the  desired  mo- 
ment in  the  suitable  place,  like  plants  i»;n)wing  in  favor- 
able soil.  The  appearance  of  it  is  strange,  novel,  and 
foreign.  Kothing  less  resembles  the  picturesqueness  of 
Catholic  convents.  The  sadness  of  Gothic  art  with  its 
frail  colunms,  its  pointed  ogives,  its  open  trefoils,  its 
springing  upward  into  the  sky,  inspires  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent order  of  ideas.  Here,  none  of  those  long  cloisters 
whose  arches,  enbrowncd  by  time,  frame  some  lonely 
littleyard, — none  of  those  old,  austere  walls,  green  with 
moss,  washed  out  by  rain,  which  keep  the  smoke  and 
rust  of  centuries ;  none  of  those  architectural  caprices, 
variations  upon  a  given  theme,  making  a  surprise  out  of 
the  foreseen.  The  Greek  confession,  less  picturesque  in 
an  artistic  point  of  view,  preserved  the  ancient  Byzan- 
tine formulas,  and  fearlessly  repeats  itself,  more  mindful 
of  orthodoxy  than  of  good  taste.  It  attains.however,  im- 
mense effects  of  wealth  and  splendor,  and  its  hieratic  bar- 
l)arism  is  very  impressive  to  the  untutored  imagina- 
tion. 

Indeed,  it  is  impossible  for  the  most  blase  tourist  not 
to,  feel  an  admiring  astonishment  when  he  sees,  at  the 
end  of  the  avenue  of  glittering  frost-covered  trees  which 
opens  before  him  as  ho  emerges  from  the  tower-porch, 


292  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

these  clinrclies  painted  in  Marie-Lonise  blue,  in  l)right 
red,  in  apple-green,  with  the  white  trimmings  which  the 
snow  has  added  to  them,  rising  oddly,  with  their  golden 
or  silver  cupolas,  from  the  midst  of  the  many-colored 
buildings  which  surround  them. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  entered  the 
Trinity  Cathedral,  wherein  stands  the  shrine  of  St. 
Sergius.  The  mysterious  darkness  enhanced  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  sanctuary.  Along  the  walls,  rows  of  pic- 
tured saints  stood  up  dark  against  their  gold  backgrounds, 
and  assumed  a  sort  of  strange,  fierce  life.  It  was  like  a 
procession  of  grave  personages  outlined  darkly  along  the 
crest  of  a  hill  against  a  belt  of  sunset.  In  corners 
more  obscure,  the"  painted  figures  were  like  phantoms 
watching  with  their  gliostly  gaze  all  that  went  on  with- 
in the  church.  Touched  by  some  wandering  ray,  an 
aureole  here  and  there  shone  like  a  star  in  a  dark  sky,  or 
gave  to  some  head  of  bearded  saint  the  aspect  of  a  John 
the  Baptist's  head  upon  the  charger  of  Herodias.  The 
iconostase,  a  gigantic  f  a9ade  of  gold  and  precions  stones, 
rose  to  the  vanlted  ceiling  with  its  tawny  gleams  and 
prismatic  scintiUations.  Near  the  iconostase,  toward  the 
ri^ht,  a  luminous  centre  attracted  the  eye  ;  a  great  num- 
ber of  lamps  helped  to  make  in  this  corner  a  very  con- 
flagration of  gold,  and  silver-gilt,  and  silver.  It  was  the 
shrine  of  St.  Sergius,  the  humble  anchorite,  who  rests 
there  in  a  sepulchre  rich.er  than  that  of  any  emperor. 
The  tomb  itself  is  of  gilded  silver,  the  canopy  in  solid 
silver,  supported  by  f(mr  columns  of  the  same  metal, 
the  gift  of  the  Empress  Anne. 

Around  this  mass  of  precious  metal,  from  which 
streamed  floods  of  light,  nmjiks,  pilgrims,  the  faithful  of 
every  class,  in  an  admiring  ecstasy,  were  pi-aying,_  niak- 
ing  signs  of  the  cross,  and  performing  all  the  religious 
di'itics  of  the  Greek  ritual.  It  was  a  picture  worthy  of 
Ilembrandt.  This  dazzling  tomb  threw  out  splashes  of 
fiame  upon  the  kneeling  peasants,  lighting  up  a  head, 
making  a  beard  gleam,  bringing  a  prolile  into  sharp  re- 


TBOITZA.  293 

lief,  while  tlie  rest  of  tlie  fignro  remaiued  batlied  in 
shadow,  lost  under  the  coarse  thickness  of  the  clotliinii^. 
Some  of  tiiese  heads  were  maguilicent,  the  faces  illuini- 
iiated  witli  faith  and  fervor. 

After  having  contemplated  this  spectacle  so  worthy 
of  interest,  I  examined  the  iconostase  in  which  is  set 
the  picture  of  St.  Sergius,  a  picture  regarded  as  mirac- 
ulous, which  was  carried  along  l^y  the  Czar  Alexis  in 
his  wars  with  Poland,  and  by  the  Czar  Peter  I.  in  his 
cam])aigns  against  Charles  XII.  It  is  impossible  to 
form  an  idea  of  the  wealtli  which  faitli  and  devotion, 
or  remorse  lioping  to  buy  the  pardon  of  Heaven,  have 
accumulated  in  the  course  of  ages  upon  this  iconostase, 
a  colossal  jewel-box,  a  very  mine  of  precious  stones. 
The  nimbi  of  certain  sacred  pictures  are  paved  with 
diamonds  ;  sapphires,  rubies,  emeralds,  and  topazes  form 
mosaics  on  the  golden  robos  of  Madonnas ;  black  and 
white  pearls  represent  eml)roidery  thereon  ;  and  when 
room  fails,  collars  of  massive  gold,  fastened  at  tlie  two 
ends  like  the  handles  of  a  chest  of  drawers,  are  set 
thick  with  diamonds  of  an  enormous  size.  One  dare 
not  guess  tluiir  value  ;  doubtless  it  surpasses  many  mil- 
lions. Without  question,  one  of  Paphaers  Madonnas, 
quite  unadorned,  is  more  beautiful  than  a  Greek  Mother 
of  God  with  all  her  ornaments ;  but  this  lavish  Byzan- 
tine and  Asiatic  prodigality  produces  its  effect. 

The  Cathedral  of  the  Assumj^tion,  which  adjoins  that 
of  the  Trinity,  is  built  upon  the  same  plan  as  tlie  As- 
sumption in  the  Kremlin,  whose  exterior  and  interior 
arrangements  it  repeats.  Paintings  which  one  might 
believe  to  be  the  work  of  the  immediate  pupils  of  Pan- 
selinos,  tlie  great  Pyzantine  artist  of  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury, cover  its  walls  and  the  enormous  pillars  which 
sustain  the  vault.  Yon  would  have  said  the  church 
was  hung  throughout  with  tapestry,  for  no  relief  inter- 
rupts the  immense  fresco  divided  by  zones  and  com- 
partments. The  work  of  the  chisel  counts  for  nothing 
ill  the  ornamentation  of  relia;ious  ediUces  consecrated 


204  A  WINTER  Ilf  BUSSIA. 

to  the  Greek  worsliip.  The  Eastern  church,  which  era- 
ploys  so  profusely  the  painted  tignre,  seems  to  refuse 
the  sculptured  figure  altogether.  She  seems  to  dread 
the  statue  as  an  idol,  although  she  sometimes  employs 
the  bas-relief  in  the  decoration  of  doors,  crosses, 
and  other  objects  appertaiuiug  to  worship.  I  know  of 
no  detached  statues  in  any  Russian  church  except  those 
which  ornament  the  cathedral  of  St.  Isaac. 

This  absence  of  all  relief  and  all  sculpture  gives  a 
strange  and  peculiar  stamp  to  the  churches  of  the  Greek 
faith,  which  one  does  not  appreciate  at  first,  but  comes  at 
last  fully  to  understand. 

In  this  church  are  the  tombs  of  Boris  Godounof,  liis 
wife,  and  his  two  children,  resembling  in  stjde  and 
shapes  the  ticrbes,  or  Moslem  tombs.  Beligious  scruples 
banish  from  them  the  art  which  makes  Gothic  tombs 
such  admirable  structures. 

St.  Sergius,  as  founder  and  patron  of  the  convent, 
well  deserved  to  have  a  church  in  his  honor  on  the  spot 
where  once  stood  his  hermitage;  and  there  is  within 
the  enclosure  of  Troitza  a  St.  Sergius'  chapel,  as  rich, 
as  highly  ornamented,  and  as  splendid  as  the  sanctu- 
aries of  which  I  have  been  speaking.  There  is  found 
the  miraculous  picture  of  the  Virgin  of  Smolensk,  sur- 
named  "  the  guide"  {odigliitria).  The  Myalls  are  en- 
tirely covered  with  frescos,  and  through  apertures  cut 
in  the  gold  of  the  iconostase,  are  seen  the  brown  faces 
of  Greek  saints. 

Meantime  night  had  fully  come  on,  and,  however 
zealous  one  may  be,  the  tourist's  trade  cannot  be  car- 
ried on  in  darkness.  Hunger  began  to  be  urgent,  and 
I  returned  to  the  inn,  where  the  mild  temperature  of 
Russian  houses  awaited  me.  The  dinner  was  passable. 
The  inevitable  cabbage-soup  accompanied  by  balls  of 
hashed  meat,  a  young  pig,  and  soudacs,  a  fish  as  ]-)ecu- 
liar  to  Russia  as  is  the  sterlet,  composed  the  bill  of 
fare,  the  whole  enlivened  by  a  mild  white  Crimean 
wine,  a  kind  of  "  epileptic  cocoa,"  which  amused  itself 


TBOiTZA.  295 

by  connterfcitiiig  champagne,  but,  after  all,  was  not  a 
disao;rccablc  beverage. 

Alter  dinner,  some  glasses  of  tea  and  a  few  whiffs  of 
an  extremely  strong  t(;bacco  that  the}'  smoke  in  pii)es  as 
small  as  those  used  by  the  Chinese,  brought  us  along  to 
bed-time. 

My  sleep,  I  confess,  was  not  troubled  by  any  of  those 
i  nocturnal  aggressors  whose  swarms  transform  the  trav- 
eller's bed  into  a  sanguinary  battle-field.  I  am  there- 
fore deprived  of  the  opportunity  of  placing  on  record 
at  that  point  a  malediction  against  vern)in,  and  must 
reserve  for  another  time  the  quotation  from  Heine : 
"  Un  duel  avec  une  punaise  I  ji  !  on  la  tue  et  elle  vous 
emjpoisonne ! ''"'  To  destroy  this  vile  race,  you  need 
only  to  leave  open  your  bedroom  window,  with  the 
thermometer  at  — 30^;  it  was  winter  when  I  visited 
Ti'oitza. 

Early  in  the  morning  I  was  again  at  my  tourist's 
■work  in  the  convent,  and  finished  visiting  the  churches 
which  I  had  not  been  able  to  see  the  evening  before ; 
of  tliese  it  is  useless  to  give  a  detailed  description,  for 
within,  they  repeat  each  other  almost  exactly,  like  a 
litni'gic  formula.  Upon  the  exterior,  in  the  case  of 
some,  the  tococo  style  is  most  oddly  joined  to  the  Bj^- 
zantine.  To  assign  a  true  date  to  these  edifices  would 
be  nearly  impossible;  that  which  seems  ancient  may 
have  been  painted  but  yesterday,  and  the  traces  of  time 
disai)pear  under  incessantly  renewed  coats  of  paint. 

AVc  had  a  letter  from  an  influential  person  in  Mos- 
cow for  the  archimandrite,  a  handsome  man  with  long 
I'.air  and  beard,  and  a  most  digniiied  face,  whose  feat- 
ni'os  recalled  the  human-faced  bulls  of  Nineveh.  The 
archimandrite  spoke  no  French,  and  sent  for  a  nun  who 
understood  that  langna^re,  l)idding  her  in  Russian  ac- 
company  us  in  our  visit  to  the  Treasury'  and  the  other 
curiosities  of  the  convent.  This  nun  came  in,  kissed 
the  hand  of  the  archinKUidrite,  and  stood  silently  wait- 
ing till  the  custodian  arrived  v/ith  his  keys.     She  had 


296  ^  V/mTER  m  RUSSIA. 

one  of  those  faces  whicli  it  is  impossible  to  forget,  and 
wliich  emerge  like  a  dream  amid  the  trivialities  of  life. 
8he  was  coiffed  with  that  something  resembling  a 
bushel,  like  the  diadem  of  certain  Mithriac  divinities, 
Avhich  is  worn  by  the  Russian  clergy.  From  it  de- 
scended long  crape  harhes  with  floating  ends  ;  they  fell 
upon  her  ample  black  robe,  of  the  same  material  of 
•whicli  lawyers'  gowns  are  made.  Iler  features,  of  as- 
cetic pallor,  where  yellow,  waxy  tints  had  crept  in  under 
the  delicate  skin,  were  perfectly  regular.  Her  eyes, 
surrounded  by  a  broad,  dark  bruise,  showed,  when  she 
raised  the  lids,  the  iris  of  a  strange  blue,  and  her  w^hole 
person,  tliough  swallowed  up  and,  as  it  were,  lost  in 
that  floating  sack  of  coarse  black  serge,  betrayed  the  rar- 
est distinction.  She  svv^ept  its  folds  after  her  down  the 
corridors  of  the  convent,  with  the  same  air  with  whicli 
she  would  have  managed  a  train  at  some  court  cere- 
mcmial.  Iler  ancient  grace  as  a  woman  of  the  world, 
which  she  now  strove  to  conceal  under  Christian  humil- 
ity, reappeared  in  spite  of  herself.  At  sight  of  her,  tiie 
most  pi'osaic  imagination  in  the  Avorld  could  not  have 
failed  to  v/eave  a  roman.ce.  What  misfortune,  what  des- 
pair, what  catastrophe  of  love  could  have  brought  her 
to  this?  She  suggested  the  Duchess  of  Langeais  in 
Balzac's  Ilistoire  des  Treize,  discovered  by  Montriveau 
in  her  Carmelite  dress,  buried  in  an  Audalusian  con- 
Yent. 

We  reached  the  Treasury,  and  were  shown,  as  the 
most  precious  object,  a  wooden  goblet,  and  some  rude 
sn,cerdotal  vestments.  The  nun  explained  to  me  that 
this  mean  wooden  vase  was  the  pyx  which  St.  Sergius 
had  used  in  officiating  at  the  altar,  and  that  he  had 
worn  these  coarse  chasubles,  thus  making  them  inesti- 
mable relics.  She  spoke  the  purest  Frencli,  absolutely 
free  from  accent,  and  as  though  it  had  been  her  mother- 
tongue.  Whilst,  with  the  most  non-committal  air  in 
the  world, — without  scepticism  and  yet  withcnit  credu- 
lity,— she  was  relating  to  me  in  historic  fashion  some 


TROi'TZA.  297 

marvellous  legend — I  have  forgotten  wliat — in  relation 
to  these  relics,  a  faint  smile  parted  lier  lips,  and  showed 
teeth  finer  than  all  the  pearls  of  the  treasure-house, 
dazzliui^  enough  to  leave  an  ineifaceable  memory,  like 
those  of  Bei-enice,  in  Edgar  Poe's  novel. 

These  briUiant  teeth  brought  youth  back  into  the 
face  discolored  b}^  grief  and  austerities.  The  nun,  who 
had  seemed  at  first  thirty-six  or  thirty-eight,  now  ap- 
peared not  more  than  twenty-five.  It  was  but  a 
momentary  flash.  She  felt,  with  all  a  woman's  sensi- 
tiveness, my  respectful  but  eager  admiration,  and  she 
resumed  the  lifeless  air  which  suited  her  garments. 

All  the  armoires  were  opened  to  us,  and  we  were  al- 
lowed to  see  tlie  Bibles,  the  gospels,  the  liturgical  books, 
with  covers  of  silver-gilt,  incrustcd  with  stones,  onyx, 
sardonyx,  agate,  cln-ysoprase,  aqua-marine,  lapis-lazuli, 
malachite,  turquoise, — with  clasps  of  gold  and  silver  in 
which  wei-e  set  antique  cameos  ;  the  sacred  chalices  of 
gold  with  belts  of  diamonds;  crosses  jjaved  with 
emeralds  and  rubies ;  sapphire  rings  ;  vases,  and  chande- 
liers of  silver;  dalmatics  of  brocade  embroidered  with 
flowers  composed  of  gems,  and  with  legends  in  old 
Slavonic  written  in  pearls;  enamelled  censers;  triptychs 
storied  with  countless  figures ;  images  of  saints  and  ma- 
donnas ;  masses  of  precious  metals,  and  heaps  of  uncut 
gems  ; — a  very  treasure  of  a  Christianized  Ilaroun-al- 
Kaschid. 

As  I  was  just  emerging,  dazzled  with  wonders,  my 
eyes  fairly  blinded  and  seeing  black  specks  in  the  sun- 
shine, the  nun  called  my  attention  to  a  row  of  bushel- 
baskets  on  a  shelf,  which  had  escaped  my  notice  and 
seemed  to  contain  nothing  of  special  account.  She 
plunged  her  slender,  patrician  hand  into  one  of  them, 
-  ^  she  said :  "  These  are  pearls.  There  was  no  way  of 
using  these,  and  tlicy  have  put  them  here.  There  are 
eight  measures  of  them." 
13* 


XIX. 


BYZANTINE   AET. 


TTNDERSTANDING  by  some  remark  of  mine  that 
LJ  I  was  not  a  stranger  to  art,  the  nun  who  had  ex- 
hibited to  me  the  convent  treasures,  thought  that  pos- 
sibly the  painting-i'ooms  might  interest  me  more  than 
this  accumulation  of  gold  and  diamonds  and  pearls,  so 
she  led  me  through  broad  corridors,  interrupted  by 
flights  of  stairs,  to  the  halls  where  were  at  work  the 
artist-monks  and  their  pupils. 

Byzantine  art  exists  under  conditions  entirely  pe- 
culiar, and  it  differs  from  everything  which  is  under- 
stood by  that  word  afnong  the  nations  of  Western 
Euro])e  or  those  who  accept  the  Latin  faith.  It  is  a 
hierarchical,  sacerdotal,  iminntable  art ;  nothing,  or  al- 
most nothing,  is  left  to  the  fancy  or  the  invention  of  the 
ai-tist.  Its  formulas  are  as  fixed  as  dogmas.  In  this 
school,  there  is  neither  progress  nor  decay,  nor  epoch, 
so  to  speak.  The  fresco  or  picture  finished  twenty 
years  ago  cannot  be  distinguished  from  the  painting 
which  counts  its  centnries.  Such  as  it  was  in  the  sixth, 
the  ninth,  or  tenth  century,  snch  is  now  Byzantine  art ; 
and  I  employ  this  word  in  lack  of  a  better,  as  we  use 
the  word  Gothic,  which  everybody  understands,  though 
its  meaning  is  not  rigorously  exact. 

It  is  evident  to  any  man  who  is  familiar  with  paint- 
ings, that  this  art  is  derived  from  another  source  than  is 
the  Latin ;  that  it  has  borrowed  notliing  from  the  Italian 
schools;  that  the  Renaissance  has  never  dawned  upon  it, 
and  that  Rome  is  not  tlie  metropolis  where  its  ideal  is 
enthroned.  It  lives  from  its  own  vitality,  borrowing 
nothing,   making  no   improvements,   since  at   the  first 


BYZANTINE  ART.  '  299 

Btroko  it  found  its  necessary  form,  open  to  criticism 
from  an  artistic  point  of  view,  but  marvellously  suited 
to  the  oflicc  which  it  lills.  Jkit, — do  you  ask, — what  is 
the  fountain-head  of  this  ti'aditiou  so  carefully  main- 
tiiined  %  AVhence  is  delivered  this  uniform  instruction 
Avhicli  lias  come  down  across  the  ages,  undei-going  no 
alteration  from  the  varying  jnedia  through  which  it  has 
l)assed  ?  To  what  masters  do  all  these  unknown  artists 
yield  obedience, — these  artists  whose  pencils  have  cov- 
ered the  churches  of  the  Greek  confession  with  such  a 
multitude  of  figures,  that  the  enumeration  of  them — 
were  it  possible — would  exceed  the  lists  of  the  most 
formidable  army  % 

A  curious  and  learned  introduction  by  M.  Didron, 
prefixed  to  the  Byzantine  manus;cript,  entitled  "  The 
Gnido  to  Painting,"  which  \\ix:\  been  translated  by  Dr. 
Paul  Durand,  replies  to  most  of  these  questions.  The 
compiler  of  this  Guide  to  Painting  was  a  certain  Denys, 
a  monk  of  Fourna  d'Agrapha,  a  great  admirer  of  the 
celebrated  Manuel  Panselinos  of  Thessalonica,  who 
seems  to  be  the  Byzantine  Paphael,  and  a  few  of  whose 
frescos  yet  exist  in  the  prjncijxxl  Church  of  Kares,  on 
Mount  Athos.  In  a  short  ])refa(^e,  preceded  l)y  an  in- 
vocation to  "Mnry,  Mother  of  God  and  Ever-Virgin," 
Master  Denys  of  AgKai)ha  thus  announced  the  aim  of 
his  work  :  "  This  art  of  ]^ainting,  which,  from  infancy, 
I  have  studied  so  carefully  at  Thessalonica,  1  desire  to 
propagate  for  the  aid  of  those  who,  equall}^  with  myself, 
wish  to  devote  themselves  to  it,  and  to  explain  to  them 
in  this  work  all  the  dimensions,  the  characteristics  of 
the  figures,  and  the  colors  of  the  flesh  and  of  the  orna- 
ments with  great  accuracy.  Besides,  I  have  sought  to 
explain  the  dimensions  of  all  natural  objects,  the  work 
peculiar  to  each  subject,  the  different  preparations  of 
varnish,  sizing,  plaster,  and  gold,  and  the  method  of 
painting  upon  walls  with  the  utmost  perfection.  1  have 
thus  indicated  the  whole  series  of  the  Old  and  New 
Testament  subjects,  the  method  of  representing  natural 


300  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

facts  and  the  miracles  of  the  Bible,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  tlie  Lord's  parables,  the  legends,  and  the  epigraphs 
suited  to  each  prophet ;  the  name  and  tlie  character  of 
countenance  of  the  apostles  and  the  principal  saints ; 
their  martyrdom,  and  a  part  of  tb.eir  miracles  according 
to  the  order  in  the  calendar.  I  tell  how  chnrches  are 
to  be  painted,  and  give  other  information  necessary  in 
the  art  of  painting,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  index.  I  have 
collected  all  these  materials  with  much  care  and  pains, 
aided  by  my  scholar.  Master  Cyril  of  Chios,  who  has 
corrected  the  wliole  witli  great  attention.  Pray  for  ns, 
tlien,  all  of  you,  tliat  the  Lord  may  deliver  us  from  the 
fear  of  being  condenmed  as  unprofitable  servants." 

This  manuscript,  a  real  manual  of  Cln-istian  iconog- 
raphy and  the  art  of  picture-making,  dates  back,  ac- 
cording to  the  monks  of  Mount  Atlios,  to  the  tenth 
century.  Li  reality  it  is  not  so  old  ;  scarcely  does  it 
belong  so  far  back  as  the  fifteenth.  But  that  is  of  little 
consequence,  for  it  unquestionably  repeats  ancient  for- 
mulas and  archaic  methods.  It  still  serves  as  guide, 
and,  as  M.  Didron  relates  in  his  journey  to  the  sacred 
mount,  where  he  visited  Fatlier  Macarios,  the  best 
Aghiorite  painter  after  Father  Joasaph,  "  This  bible  of 
his  art  Vv'as  spread  open  in  the  midst  of  the  painting- 
room,  and  two  of  the  youngest  students  were  reading 
aloud  from  it  alternately,  while  the  others  painted  and 
listened  to  the  reading." 

T])o  traveller  sought  to  buy  this  manuscript,  of  whicb 
the  artist  woidd  at  no  price  deprive  himself,  for  ^\•illl- 
oat  this  book  he  coukl  not  have  continued  to  paint ; 
but  lie  consented  to  let  a  copy  of  it  be  made.  This 
manuscript  contained  the  secret  of  Byzantine  painting, 
and  explained  to  the  learned  tourist,— wlio  had  recently 
beoii  visiting  the  chnrches  of  Athens,  Salamis,  Triccala, 
liiilabach,  Lansse,  of  the  convent  of  the  Meteores,  of 
kSaint-Barlaam,  of  Saint  Sophia,  of  Salonica,  of  Mistra, 
of  Ai-gos, — why  he  should  have  met  eVeryv^diere  the 
same  profusion  of  painted  decoration,  everywhere  the 


BYZANTTNE  ART.  301 

same  arrangoinciit,  same  costume,  same  age,  same  atti- 
tude of  the  sacred  pei'sonages.  "  You  would  say,"  he  ex- 
claims, surprised  at  this  uuiformity,  "  that  one  single 
idea,  animating-  at  the  same  moment  a  hundred  pencils, 
liad  created  at  a  stroke  all  the  paintings  in  (i recce." 

This  exclamation  might  be  uttered  \v'ith  ecpial  justice 
in  reference  to  the  frescos  which  decorate  nearly  all  the 
Kussian  churches.  "  The  atelier  in  whicli  all  these  are 
prepared,"  continues  the  traveller,  ''and  where  these  By- 
zantine artists  are  trained,  is  Mount  Athos :  it  is  in- 
deed the  Italy  of  the  Eastern  Churcli.  Mount  Athos, 
that  province  of  monks,  contains  twenty  great  monas- 
teries, whicli  are  so  many  little  cities:  ten  villages,  two 
liundrcd  and  fifty  isolated  cells,  and  a  hundred  and  lil'ty 
hermitages.  The  smallest  of  these  monasteries  include 
six  churches  or  chapels  ;  the  largest,  thirty-thi'ce  ;  in 
all,  two  hundred  and  eighty.  The  villages,  or  skites, 
possess  two  hundred  and  twenty-tive  chapels  and  ten 
churches.  Each  cell  also  Isas  its  chapel,  and  each  her- 
mitage its  oratory.  At  Kares,  the  capital  of  Athos,  is  the 
edifice  wliicli  we  should  call  the  cathedral  of  the  whole 
mountain,  the  Protaton,  or  metropolis,  the  Greek  monks 
name  it.  On  the  summit  of  the  eastei"n  point  of  the 
promontory  rises  the  isolated  Church  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion. Tlius,  in  tlie  whole  circuit  of  Mount  Athos,  we 
may  count  nine  hundred  and  thirty-five  churches, 
chapels,  and  oi-arories.  Almost  all  of  these  are  painted 
in  fresco  and  filled  with  pictures  on  wood.  In  the 
great  convents  the  refectories  are  also  for  the  most  part 
lined  with  nnn'al  j^aintings." 

This  is  certaiidy  a  I'ich  museum  of  religious  art. 
The  student  has  no  lack  of  subjects  for  study,  and  of 
n.iodels  to  reproduce,  for,  in  tJiis  school,  the  artist's 
ujerit  does  not  consist  in  invention,  imagination,  origi- 
nality, but  rather  in  co]n'ing  with  the  utmost  fidelity 
the  sacred  types  wliich  are  set  before  him.  The  contours 
and  proportions  of  every  figure  are  determined  in  ad- 
vance.    Natm-c  is  never  consulted;  tradition  indicates 


302  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

tlic  color  of  the  hair  aiul  beard,  whether  thej  shall  be 
long  or  sliort,  the  tone  of  the  drapery,  the  luimber,  di- 
rection, and  lieaviness  of  the  folds.  For  saints  in  long 
robes,  there  is  invariably  a  break  in  the  garment  either 
below  or  above  the  knee.  "  In  Greece,"  writes  M.  Di- 
dron,  "the  artist  is  a  slave  to  tlie  theologian.  His  work, 
which  shall  be  copied  by  his  snccessors,  is  itself  a  copy 
of  the  pictures  his  predecessors  have  painted.  The 
Greek  artist  is  as  subservient  to  tradition  as  the  animal 
is  to  instinct.  He  makes  a  figure  in  the  same  way  that 
the  swallow  makes  a  nest,  or  the  bee  a  cell.  Nothing 
of  it  is  his  but  the  execution  ;  the  idea  and  tlic  composi- 
tion of  the  pictures  belong  to  the  Fathers,  the  Theolo- 
gians,— in  sliort,  to  the  Orthodox  church.  Neither  time 
iu>r  place  are  anything  in  Greek  art ;  the  Moreote 
painter  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  the  successor  and 
copyist  of  the  Yenetian  painter  of  tlie  tenth,  or  the 
Athonite  of  the  fifth  and  sixth.  In  the  Transfiguration 
at  Athens,  the  Ilecatomindi  at  Mistra,  or  the  Panagia  of 
St.  Luke,  yon  find  the  saint  Jolm  Chrysostom  of  the 
baptistery  of  St.  Mark  in  Venice." 

M.  Didron  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  at  Mount 
Ath(;s,  in  the  convent  of  Esphigmenon,  the  first  one 
which  he  visited,  a  painter  of  Kares,  the  monk  Joasaph, 
who  was  engaged  in  decorating  witli  mural  paintings  tlie 
porch,  or  narthex,  in  front  of  the  cluirch.  He  was  aided 
in  his  work  by  his  brother,  two  pupils,  one  of  whom  was 
a  deacon,  and  two  apprentices.  The  subject  which  he 
was  drawing  upon  the  fresh  plaster  of  the  wall  was  a 
Christ,  sending  forth  His  disciples  to  preach  the  gospel 
and  to  baptize  all  the  world  ; — a  subject  of  importance 
containing  twelve  figures  nearly  the  size  of  life.  He 
sketched  with  rapidity  and  perfect  accuracy,  without 
other  cartoon  or  model  than  his  own  memory;  and 
M'hile  he  was  thus  at  woilc,  his  schcilars  fiJled  in  with 
the  desimiated  color  the  contours  of  the  fio-ures  and  the 
draperies,  gilded  the  aureoles  about  the  lieads,  or  in- 
scribed the  text  of  legends  which   the  master  dictated 


BYZANTINE  ART.  303 

whilst  going  on  witli  his  o\Yn  woi-k.  The  3'oung  ap- 
prentices were  grinding  and  mixing  colors.  These 
frescos,  the  traveller  assures  ns,  executed  so  rapidly  and 
without  any  subsequent  correction,  were  much  better 
than  the  pictures  of  our  second  and  third  rate  religious 
painters ;  and  as  he  expressed  snrpi-ise  at  the  talent  and 
learning  of  Father  Joasaph  in  finding  for  each  ])erson- 
age,  legends  so  appropriate  and  implying  such  vast 
erudition,  the  monk  replied  hnml)ly  that  this  was  not  so 
difficult  as  it  seemed,  and  that  with  the  aid  of  the  Guide, 
and  with  a  little  practice,  any  one  could  do  as  much. 

The  lamented  Papety  exhibited  in  the  salon  of  1847 
a  chai-niing  little  picture  representing  Greek  monks 
decorating  in  fresco  a  chapel  in  the  convent  of  Iviron, 
on  Mount  Athos.  At  that  time  I  had  not  made  my 
Russian  journey,  but  even  then  this  Neo-Byzantine  art, 
of  which  I  had  the  good  foi-tune  to  see  some  isolated 
specimens,  was  extremely  interesting  to  me,  and  Pape- 
ty's  j)icture,  besides  its  merit  as  a  work  of  art,  excited 
my  curiosity  and  gratified  it  also,  showing  me  at  their 
work  these  "living  artists,  whose  pictures  seem  to  belong 
to  the  time  of  tlie  Greek  emperors.  In  a  review  of  the 
exhibition,  I  spoke  of  the  picture  thus: 

"  They  [the  Greek  monks]  are  both  standing  before 
the  wall  upon  which  they  are  at  work,  and  which  is 
curved  like  the  inside  of  an  oven.  The  outlines  of  the 
saints  about  to  be  colored  are  di-awn  in  red  on  the  fresh 
]>laster,  which  is  ready  for  the  fresco.  Tliese  di'awings 
have  an  archaic  stiff n.ess  suggestive  of  a  long-past  age. 
In  the  centre  upon  a  stand  are  placed  the  artists'  imple- 
ments and  colors.  At  the  left  is  a  trough  containing 
mortar  and  marble  dust,  with  the  trowel  for  applying 
it." 

This  painter  also  sent  to  the  exhibition  some  water- 
colors,  representing  the  frescos  of  Manuel  Panselinos 
copied  from  the  convent  church  of  Aghia-Lavra.  Thej'^ 
were  Greek  saints  of  grand  and  haughty  aspect, — saints 
belo:iging  to  the  warrior  category. 


304:  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

And  now  I,  too,  was  to  see  the  work  of  artist-monks, 
like  those  of  Mount  Athos,  reh'giously  following  the 
instructions  of  the  Guide ;  a  living  Byzantine  school, 
the  Past  working  with  the  hands  of  the  Present, — surely 
a  rare  and  curious  thing! 

Five  or  six  monks  were  painting  busily  in  a  large, 
well-lighted  room  with  bare  walls.  One  of  them,  a 
handsome  man  with  black  beard  and  sunl)urnt  face, 
who  was  finishing  a  Madonna,  was  very  impressive  with 
his  air  of  sacerdotal  gravity,  and  the  pious  care  which  lie 
bestowed  npon  his  work.  lie  reminded  me  of  Zieglers 
beautiful  picture  :  "  Saint  Luke  painting  the  portrait  of 
the  Virgin."  Peligious  feeling  possessed  his  mind  far 
more  than  art ;  he  painted  as  one  might  officiate  in 
divine  worship.  His  Mother  of  God  might  have  been 
placed  on  the  evangelist's  own  easel,  so  severely  archaic 
■was  she,  and  so  rigidly  restrained  within  the  prescribed 
limits.  You  might  think  her  a  Byzantine  Empress,  with 
such  serious  majesty  she  looked  at  you  from  the  depths 
of  her  great,  black,  steadfast  eyes.  The  portions  which 
were  to  be  concealed  by  the  metallic  plating — which  is 
cut  away  to  show  the  hands  and  face — were  as  caref ull}'- 
elaborated  as  if  they  had  been  destined  to  remain  visible. 

Other  pictures,  more  or  less  advanced,  representing 
Greek  saints,  and,  among  others,  Saint  Sergius,  the 
convent's  patron,  were  going  on  under  the  laborious 
hands  of  the  artist-monks.  These  paintings,  destined  to 
serve  as  icons  in  chapels  or  in  private  dwellings,  were 
upon  panels  covered  with  i)laster  of  Paris  in  accordance 
with  the  metliods  recommended  by  Master  Denys 
d'Agrapha,  and  having  been  a  little  smoked  were  in  no 
wa}'  distinguishable  from  paintings  of  the  fifteenth  or 
of  the  twelfth  century.  There  were  the  same  stiff,  con- 
strained attitudes,  the  same  hieratic  gestures,  the  same 
I'ogularity  of  folds,  the  same  brown  and  tav\'ny  color  in 
the  flesh-tints, — all  the  teaching  of  Mount  Athos.  They 
were  using  white  of  egg,  or  distemper,  afterwards  coated 
with  varnish.     The  aureoles  and  the  ornaments  destined 


BYZANTmE  ART.  305 

to  be  gilded  were  sli^-litly  raised,  the  better  to  catcli  the 
light.  The  old  masters  of  Salonica,  could  they  have 
come  back  to  the  world,  would  have  been  well  ooiiteiit 
with  these  students  at  Troit/ia. 

But  at  the  pi-csent  day  no  tradition  can  be  maintained 
with  entire  fidelity.  Among  those  who  resolutely  ad- 
here to  the  old  formulas,  adepts  from  time  to  time  are 
found  with  less  rigid  consciences.  The  new  spirit, 
through  some  fissure,  makes  its  way  into  the  ancient 
mould.  Those  who  desire  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of 
the  Athonite  painters,  and  to  preserve  in  the  midst  of 
our  own  oixx-h,  the  immutable  Byzantine  style,  cannot 
help  seeing  modern  pictures  in  which  liberty  of  compo- 
sition is  allied  to  the  study  of  nature.  It  is  difficult  to 
keej)  one's  eyes  shut  always,  and  even  at  Troitza  the  new 
spirit  has  found  lodgement ; — as  in  the  metopes  of  the 
Parthenon  two  styles  are  distinguishable,  one  ancient, 
the  other  modern.  Part  of  the  monks  conform  to  rule  ; 
a  few,  younger,  have  abandoned  white  of  egg  for  oil, 
and — still  maintainhig  tlieir  figures  in  the  prescribed 
attitude  and  the  immemorial  costume — take  the  liberty 
of  giving  to  the  heads  and  hands  tones  more  life-like,  a 
color  less  conventional,  introduce  shading,  and  aim  at 
relief.  They  make  their  women  more  humanly  pretty, 
their  men  less  theocratically  fierce ;  they  do  not  attach 
that  forked  l)eard  which  the  Guide  of  Painting  recom- 
mended, to  the  chins  of  their  patriarchs  or  hermits. 
Their  religious  pictures  approach  in  character  the  every- 
day profane  painting,  without  having,  in  my  opinion,  its 
merits. 

This  more  polished  and  pleasingmcthod  docs  not  lack 
partisans  •,  and  examples  of  it  may  be  seen  in  many  of 
the  modern  Russians  churches;  for  my  ovv-n  part,  I 
greatly  prefer  the  old  school  which  is  ideal,  religious, 
and  decorative,  and  has  on  its  side  the  prestige  of  forms 
and  colors  remote  from  the  commonplace  ivality.  This 
symbolic  fasliion  of  presenting  the  idea  by  means  of 
figures   determined  in  advance,  like  a  sacred  writing 


306  ^  WINTER  127  RUSSIA. 

whose  diaracter  it  is  not  pei-initted  to  alter,  seems  to 
ii)e  marvellously  suited  for  Vlie  decoration  of  tlie  sanc- 
tuary. Even  with,  all  its  rigidity  it  would  give  scope  for 
a  great  artist  to  assert  himself  by  the  boldness  of  the 
drawing,  the  gi-andeur  of  the  style,  and  the  nobleness  of 
tiie  contours. 

It  is  my  impression  that  this  attempt  to  linmanize 
Byzantine  art  will  not  succeed.  There  is  in  Eu?sia  a 
Romantic  school  in  literature,  fascinated,  like  the  French 
Romantic  school,  with  local  color,  who  defend  with 
learned  theories  and  an  enlightened  criticism  tlie  old  style 
of  Mount  Athos,  for  the  sake  of  its  antique  and  religions 
character,  its  profound  conviction,  and  its  absolute  orig- 
inality amidst  the  productions  of  Italian,  Sjmnish, 
Flemish,  or  French  art.  A  just  notion  of  these  polemics 
may  be  formed  by  recalliug  the  impassioned  pleas  for 
Gothic  architecture,  and  the  diati-ibes  against  Greek, 
as  applied  to  religious  edifices,  the  parallels  between 
Kotre  Dame  and  the  Madeleine,  which  were  the  delight 
of  our  youth  from  1830  to  1835.  Every  country  has  its 
era  of  false  classic  civilization,  a  kind  of  learned  bar- 
barism, in  which  it  no  longer  underntands  its  true  beauty, 
disowns  what  is  characteristic  of  itself,  renounces  its  an- 
tiquities and  its  costumes,  and,  with  a  view  to  an  insipid 
ideal  regularity,  demolishes  its  most  admii-able  national 
buildings.  The  France  of  the  eighteenth  century,  in 
other  respects  so  grand,  would  willingly  have  razed  its 
cathedrals  to  the  ground  as  monuments  of  bad  taste. 
The  portal  of  Saint  Gervais,  by  de  Brosse,  was  sincerely 
pi'eferred  to  the  wondrous  fa9ades  of  the  cathedrals  of 
Bti'asburg,  Chartres,  and  Rheiras. 

The  nun  seemed  to  regard  these  fresh-colored  Ma- 
donnas not  exactly  with  disdain,  foi-,  after  all,  they  rep- 
resented a  sacred  figure  worthy  of  adoration,  but  with 
respect  much  less  admiring.  She  delayed  longer  in 
front  of  those  easels  where  paintings  according  to  the 
ancient  method  were  in  process  of  elaboration.  In  spite 
of  my  own  preferences  for  the  old  style,  it  must  be  ad- 


BYZANTINE  ART.  307 

niittcd  that  some  amateurs  cany  to  an  extreme  their 
passion  for  ancient  Byzantine  pictures.  By  dint  of 
seekinj^  after  the  simple,  the  primitive,  the  sacred,  the 
mythical,  they  arrive  at  an  enthusiasm  for  smoky  and 
Avorui-eateu  panels  whereon  one  ma}'-  vagnely  discern 
wild  figures,  of  extravagant  drawing  and  impossible 
color.  Placed  beside  these  images,  the  most  barljaric 
Clu'ist  of  Cimabuc  would  seem  a  Yanloo  or  a  Boucher. 
8ome  of  these  pictures  date,  as  they  assert,  from  the 
fifth  or  even  the  fourth  centmy.  1  undei-stand  their 
being  sought  out  as  arcliaic  curiosities,  but  that  they 
should  be  admired  as  M^orks  of  art  I  Und  it  difficmlt  to 
conceive.  A  fev^^  of  these  have  been  shown  me  in  the 
course  of  my  visit  in  Russia,  but  I  confess  I  have  not 
been  able  to  discover  in  them  the  beauties  vdiich  are  so 
charming  to  their  possessors.  In  a  sanctuary  tliey  may 
be  venerable,  as  ancient  witnesses  to  the  faith,  but  their 
place  is  not  in  a  pictui-e-gallery,  unless  it  be  a  historic 
gallery. 

Outside  of  this  Byzantine  art,  whose  Ebme  is  upon 
Mount  Athos,  there  has  been  no  Russian  painting  ])rop- 
erly  so  called.  The  few  artists  which  Russia  has  prod  uced 
do  not  constitute  a  school;  they  have  studied  in  Italy, 
and  there  is  nothing  national  about  their  pictures.  The 
most  celebrated  and  the  best  known  in  the  west  of  Europe 
is  Bruloff,  wliose  enormous  oil-painting,  entitled  The 
Last  Day  of  Pompeii,  produced  a  very  considerable  sen- 
sation in  the  mloii  of  1824  Bruloff,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, is  the  same  artist  who  designed  the  cartoons  for 
the  dome  of  St.  Isaac's — a  gieat  apotheosis,  in  which  he 
sliovved  a  thorough  understanding  of  composition  and 
pers])ective — in  a'style  recalling  somewhat  the  decorative 
painting  of  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
The  artist,  who  had  a  haudsome  pale  face,  romantic  and 
Byronic,  with  a  profusion  of  ])Iondcliair,took  pleasure  in 
repvoduciughis  own  features,  and  I  have  seen  many  por- 
ti-aits  of  liimself  painted  at  different  periods,  representing 
him  more  or  less  wasted,  but  always  with  the  same  fatal 


308  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

beanty.  These  portraits,  done  with  mr.(;]i  spirit  and 
freedom,  seem  to  me  the  best  of  this  artist's  lesser  works. 

A  name  very  popular  in  St.  Petersburg  is  that  of 
Ivanhoff,  who,  employed  for  many  years  upon  a  mys- 
terious work  of  art,  g-ave  Russia  the  expectation  and 
hope  of  a  great  painter.  This,  however,  is  a  legend 
w^hich  I  must  take  up  at  some  other  time,  and  which 
would  carry  ree  too  far  away  from  my  j^resent  purpose. 

Must  we  say  that  Russia  will  never  have  her  place 
among  schools  of  painting  ?  I  believe  that  she  will 
have  come  to  this  when  she  shall  have  freed  lierself 
from  the  habit  of  imitating  other  nations,  and  when  Iier 
painters,  instead  of  going  to  copy  Italian  models,  will  be 
content  to  look  round  them  and  to  seek  inspiration  from 
the  natural  scenery  and  the  human  types  so  varied 
and  characteristic  in  this  immense  empire  which  begins 
at  Russia  and  ends  at  China.  "My  acquaintance  with 
the  groups  of  young  artists  who  compose  the  Friday 
Society  gives  me  cause  to  believe  in  a  speedy  realiza- 
tion of  this  hope. 

Ever  preceded  by  the  nun,  in  her  floating  black  gar- 
ments, I  next  paid  a  visit  to  a  laboratory  perfectly  fitted 
up,  in  which  Nadar  might  have  set  liimself  to  work  as 
in  liis  own  quarters.  To  step  from  Mount  Athos  to  the 
Boulevard  des  Capucines  is  a  somewhat  abrupt  transi- 
tion !  To  leave  monks  painting  Panagias  on  gold  back- 
grounds, and  to  find  others  coating  glass  plates  with  ccjI- 
lodion,  is  one  of  those  tricks  which  civilization  plays  you 
at  moments  when  you  are  thinking  least  of  her.  The 
sight  of  a  cannon  turned  upon  me  w^ould  not  have  caused 
me  more  surprise  than  did  the  brass  tube  of  the  camera 
accidentally  directed  my  way.  The  evidence  could  not 
bo  denied.  These  monks  of  Troitza,  disciples  of  Saint 
Sergiiis,  take  views  of  their  convent  and  make  copies  of 
tlieir  sacred  pictures  with  perfect  success.  Tliey  pos- 
sess the  best  instruments,  tliey  understand  the  latest 
methods,  and  their  manipulations  are  carried  on  in  a 
room  whose  \vIndow3  are  of  yellow  glass,  a  color  which 


BYZANTINE  ART.  309 

has  tlic  property  of  interrupting  tlio  ravs  of  lioUt.  I 
bought  a  pliotograpli  of  tlie  monastery, -which  I  still  pos- 
sess, and  which  has  not  faded  overmuch. 

In  his  l)Ook  on  llnssia,  M.  de  Custine  com])lains  that 
he' was  not  admitted  to  see  the  library  atTroitza.  They 
made  no  difiiculty  in  my  case,  and  I  saw  all  of  it  that  a 
traveller  can,  in  a  half-hour's  visit, — the  backs  of  books 
well-bound  and  well-arranged  on  shelves  of  bookcases. 
Besides  theological  works,  Bibles,  the  writings  of  the 
Fathers,  treatises  on  scholastic  philosophy,  commentaries, 
and  books  of  liturgies  in  Latin,  Greek,  and  Slavonic,  I 
observed,  in  my  ra])id  inspection,  many  French  books  of 
the  last  century  and  of  the  time  of  Louis  Quatorze.  Also 
I  glanced  into  the  immense  hall  of  the  refectory,  termina- 
ted at  one  of  its  extremities  by  a  very  delicately  wrought 
grating  behind  whose  iron  arabesques  glittered  the  gold 
background  of  an  iconostase,  for  the  refectory  adjoins 
a  chapel,  to  the  end  that  the  soul  may  have  its  food  as 
well  as  the  body.  My  visit  was  finished,  and  the  nun 
conducted  me  back  to  the  arcliimandrite's  apartments 
that  I  might  take  my  leave  of  him. 

Just  before  we  entered,  her  old  habits  of  society  get- 
ting the  better  of  the  rules  of  the  monastic  life,  she 
turned  ba(;k  and  addressed  to  me  a  slight  salutation,  as 
a  queen  might  have  done  frouj  the  steps  of  her  thi'one, 
and  her  white  teeth  Hashed  foi*  an  instant  in  a  faint, 
languid,  and  gi-acions  smile.  Then,  with  a  change  of 
expression  as  sudden  as  though  she  had  lowered  her 
veil,  slie  resumed  her  lifeless  face,  her  sjiectral  look  of 
renunciation  of  the  world,  and  with  ])hant()m-likc  motion 
she  knelt  before  the  archimandrite,  and  piously  kissed 
his  hand,  as  if  it  were  a  patin  or  a  relic.  This  done,  she 
rose,  and,  like  a  dream,  she  vanished  into  tlie  mysterious 
depths  ot"  the  convent,  leaving  in  my  memory  an  inef- 
faceable trace  of  her  brief  presence. 

There  was  nothing  further  to  see  in  Tro'itza,  and  we 
returned  to  the  hostelry  and  bade  the  driver  make  ready 
the  carriaa'c.     The  horses  beinir  attached  to  the  kibitka 


310  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

by  a  harness  of  ropes,  the  coachman  seated  upon  a  nar- 
row box  covered  with  sheepskin,  ourselves  warmly 
tucked  in  inider  our  bear-skin,  the  bill  paid,  the  po^or- 
hoirea  given,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  execute  the 
fantasia  of  a  departure  au  galop.  A.  slight  click  of 
the  mujik's  tongue  sent  our  team  off  at  tlio  pace  of  tlie 
wild  horse  of  Mazeppa,  and  it  was  not  till  we  reached 
tiie  opposite  side  of  the  slope  commanded  by  Troitza, 
wlience  its  domes  and  towers  are  yet  seen,  that  the  brave 
little  animals  resigned  themselves  to  a  reasonable  gait. 
I  shall  have  no  occasion  to  de;^cribethe  road  from  Troitza 
to  Moscow,  having  already  described  that  from  Moscow 
to  Troitza,  the  sole  difference  being  that  on  the  return 
objects  presented  themselves  in  inverse  order. 

The  same  evening  I  vv'as  again  in  Moscow,  quite  in 
the  mood  of  attending  a  masked  ball  to  be  given  that 
evening,  tickets  for  wliich  I  found  at  the  hotel.  Before 
the  door,  notwithstanding  the  intensity  of  the  cold,  were 
standing  sledges  and  carriages  of  various  kinds  whose 
lamps  twinkled  like  frozen  stars.  A  liot  bhxze  of  light 
leaped  from  the  windows  of  the  building  in  which  the 
ball  was  g^)ing  on,  making  with  the  blue  radiance  of  the 
moon  one  of  those  contiasts  desired  for  dioramas  and 
stereoscopic  views.  Having  crossed  the  vestibule,  I  en- 
tered an  immense  hall  in  the  form  of  a  parallelogram  or  of 
a  play  ing-card, f  ramcd  i)y  great  columns  I'esting  on  a  broad 
platform  wliich  rose  like  a  terrace  around  the  floor,  and 
was  united  to  it  by  liights  of  steps.  This  an-angement 
pleased  me  extremely,  and  it  is  worthy  of  imitation  in 
our  own  halls  destined  for  ball-rooms.  It  gives  oppor- 
tunity for  those  who  do  not  take  active  part  in  the  fes- 
tisities  to  overlook  the  dancers  without  being  in  their 
Avay,  and  to  enjoy  at  their  ease  the  spectacle  of  the  ani- 
mated and  moving  crowd.  It  elevates  and  groups  the 
figures  in  a  more  picturesque,  showy,  and  scenic  manner. 
There  is  nothing  so  disagreeable  as  a  crowd  all  on  a 
level.  It  is  this  which  renders  private  balls  so  inferior 
in    effects  to  those  of   the  Opera,  v/reathed  with  their 


BYZANTINE  ART.  311 

triple  row  of  boxes  filled  willi  masks,  and  thcii'  troops 
of  masked  lignres  ascend  ij)o^  and  descending  the  staiis. 

The  decoration  of  the  hall  was  extremely  sijn])le,  hut 
not  the  less  elegant,  rich,  and  pleasing.  Everything  \\-as 
white, — walls,  ceiling,  and  colunuis, — white,  relieved  by 
a  few  sober  gold  iillets  n])on  the  mouldings.  The  cohuuns, 
covered  with  stn(;co  and  highly  ])olished,})ersonated  mar- 
ble well  enough  to  deceive  any  one,  and  the  light  \va\ 
down  them  in  long,  glittering  tears.  Upon  the  cornices, 
rows  of  wax-candles  outlined  the  entablature  of  the  (col- 
onnade, and  rcMULorced  tlie  chandeliers.  The  hall  was 
so  white  that  this  amount  of  lighting  had  the  effect  of 
the  most  brilliant  "daylight  illumination." 

Certainly,  brilliant  light  and  motion  are  elements  of 
festivity,  but  that  the  ffite  may  have  its  full  hrio,  there 
must  be  also  noise;  noise,  the  breath  and  song  of  life  ! 
The  crowd — though  it  was  a  crov^rd — was  quiet ;  scarcely 
did  a  low  murnnir  run  like  a  shiver  over  the  groups, 
making  a  faint,  continuous  bass  to  the  fanfares  of  theoi"- 
chestra.  The  Russians  are  silent  at  their  pleasures,  and 
one  whose  eai'S  have  been  deafened  by  the  trimn])hal 
bacchanals  of  Opera  nights,  is  umazed  at  this  phlegm 
and  this  taciturnity.  Doubtless  they  are  very  much  en- 
tertained within,  but  outwardly  they  have  not  that  ap- 
pearance. 

There  were  dominos,  a  few  masks,  uniforms,  black 
coats,  and  some  Lesghine,  Circassian,  and  Tartar  cos- 
tumes, woi'n  by  wasp-waisted  young  othcers,  l)ut  no 
characteristic  dress  which  could  be  identilied  as])eculiar 
to  the  country.  Russia  seems  not  yet  to  have  produced 
its  distinctive  mask.  As  usual,  the  women  were  few  in 
number,  and  it  is  they  whom  we  look  for  at  a  ball.  So 
far  as  I  could  judge,  what  we  call  the  demi-nioiule  was 
represented  only  by  Frenchwomen  cx])orted  from  Ma- 
bille,  by  Germans  and  Swedes,  some  of  them  extremely 
beautiful.  Possibly  the  Russian  feminine  element  was 
mingled  therein,  but  the  stranger  does  not  easily  recog- 
nize it;  I  give  my  observation  oidy  for  what  it  is  worth. 


312  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

ISTotwithstandhig  a  few  timid  attempts  at  the  can ca7i — 
of  Parisian  importation— the  ball  languished  a  little,  and 
the  metallic  bursts  of  the  music  did  not  seem  to  warm 
it  np  very  much.  Everybody  was  on  the  watch  foi-  the 
gypsies,  for  the  ball  was  to  be  interrupted  by  a  concert, 
and  when  the  Tzigani  singers  appeared  on  their  platform, 
an  immense  sigh  of  satisfaction  was  heaved  by  every 
breast.  At  last  there  was  to  be  some  amusenient !  The 
real  performance  was  about  to  begin !  The  Russians 
are  passionately  fond  of  the  Tzigani,  with  their  home- 
sick, foreign  singing  which  makes  you  dream  of  a  fi'ee 
life  amid  primitive  nature,  outside  of  all  restraint  and 
all  law,  divine  or  human.  This  passion  I  share  myself, 
and  it  drives  me  almost  to  madness.  So  1  made  good 
play  with  my  elbows  to  reach  a  place  near  the  platform 
where  the  musicians  stood. 

They  were  live  or  six  haggard,  wild-looking  young 
girls,  with  that  half-bewildered  air  which  strong  light 
causes  to  nocturnal,  furtive,  vagabond  creatures  of  every 
race.  They  made  one  think  of  deer  brought  suddenly 
from  a  forest  glade  into  a  drawing-room.  There  was 
nothing  remarkable  about  their  costume  ;  it  seemed  they 
had  felt  bound,  in  coming  to  sing  at  this  ball,  to  lay 
aside  their  characteristic  attire,  and  make  a  fashionable 
toilette.  In  consequence,  their  appearance  was  like  that 
of  ill-dressed  maid-servants.  But  one  quiver  of  the 
eyelashes,  one  black,  untamed  glance  wandering  vaguely 
over  the  audience,  was  enough  to  give  back  all  their  na- 
tive character. 

The  music  began.  They  were  strange  melodies  of 
pensive  sweetness  or  of  wild  gayety,  broidered  with  in- 
limte  Jlorilura,  like  the  singing  of  a  bird  that  listens  to 
himself,  and  grows  wild  with  his  own  warbling,— sighs 
of  regret  over  some  brilliant  past  existence,  with  careless 
outbreaks  of  a  free  and  joyous  humor,  -which  mocks  at 
all  things,  even  at  its  own  lost  happiness,  if  so  be  that 
liberty  remains  ;  choruses  with  stamping  of  the  feet  and 
outcries  designed  to  accompany  those  nocturnal  dances 


BYZANTINE  ART.  313 

wln'cli  form  n]")on  the  turf  of  forest  i!;la<1(s  wliat  wo  call 
"fairy  ]-ings;"  something  like  a  Weber,  a  Chopin,  a 
Liszt,  in  the  savage  state.  At  times  the  theme  was  bor- 
rowed from  some  popular  melody  which  has  been  the 
rounds  of  all  the  pianos,  but  its  commonplace  character 
vanished  utterly  under  the  runs  and  trills,  the  ornaments 
and  caprices;  the  originality  of  the  variations  made  you 
quite  forget  how  trivial  was  the  motif.  Paganini's 
marvellous  fantasies  upon  the  Carnival  of  Venice  give 
an  idea  of  these  delicate  musical  arabesques, — silk,  gold, 
and  pearls  embroidered  upon  the  coarse  material.  A 
gypsy  man,  a  kind  of  clown  with  fierce  aspect,  l)rown 
as  an  Indian,  recalling  the  Bohemian  types  so  character- 
istically represented  by  Yalerio  in  his  ethnographic 
water-color  sketches,  accompanied  the  singing  with 
chords  from  a  great  rebeck  whicli  he  held  between  his 
knees,  playing  in  the  maimer  of  the  oriental  musicians; 
another  big  fellow  exerted  himself  upon  the  platform, 
dancing,  striking  the  floor  with  his  feet,  thrumming  a 
guitar  while  he  marked  the  rhythm  npon  the  wood  of 
the  instrument  with  the  palm  of  the  hand,  making 
strange  grimaces,  and  occasionally  uttering  an  unex- 
pected cry.  This  was  the  joker,  the  buffoon,  the  nierry- 
andrew  of  the  troupe. 

It  is  im]-)Ossible  to  descri])e  the  enthusiasm  of  the  au- 
dience immediately  about  the  platfoi-m.  They  applauded 
and  called  out  to  the  singers,  they  ke})t  time  with  their 
heads,  they  repeated  over  the  refrains.  These  sougs, 
with  their  mysteBious  extravagance,  have  the  power  of 
an  incantation;  they  make  you  dizzy  and  mad,  and  throw 
you  into  the  most  inconqirehensible  moods.  You  listen, 
and  a  mortal  longing  comes  over  you  to  disappear  from 
civilized  life  forever", — to  go  oft'  and  range  tlie  forests 
accompanied  by  one  of  these  sorcei-esses  with  cigar- 
colored  complexion  and  eyes  like  lighted  coals.  These 
songs,  whose  seductive  power  is  so  like  magic,  are  the 
very  voice  of  nature  itself,  noted  and  caught  on  the 
wing  in  solitude.  This  is  why  they  l)ring  a  profound 
W 


314  ^    WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

trouble  to  all  upon  v/hom  weighs  so  heavily  the  compli- 
cated mechauisin  of  liuinaii  society. 

Still  under  the  spell  of  this  melody,  I  walked  dream- 
ily amid  the  masked  ball,  my  soul  a  thousand  leagues 
away  from  it.  I  was  thinking  of  a  gitana  of  I'Albay- 
cin,  at  Granada,  who  sang  to  me  long  since  couplets  to 
an  air  which  much  resembled  one  of  those  we  had  just 
heard,  and  I  was  seeking  the  words  in  some  secret 
drawer  of  my  brain,  when  I  felt  myself  abruptly  taken 
by  the  arm,  and  some  one  flung  into  my  ear,  with  the 
small,  slu'ill  voice,  falsetto  like  that  of  a  hunchback, 
which  dominos  affect  in  beginning  a  conversation, 
these  mystic  words :  je  te  connais  !  In  Paris  nothing 
could  have  been  more  natural.  My  face  has  been  seen 
often  enough  at  first  performances,  on  boulevards,  and 
in  picture-galleries,  for  it  to  be  as  well  known  as  though 
I  were  indeed  a  celebrity.  But  in  Moscow,  this  affirma- 
tion at  a  masked  ball  seemed,  to  my  modesty,  a  little 
hazardous. 

The  domino,  on  being  requested  to  prove  her  asser- 
tion, whispered  beneath  the  lace  of  her  mask  my  name, 
very  satisfactorily  pronounced,  with  a  pretty  little  Rus- 
sian accent,  which  the  disguised  voice  did  not  avail  to 
conceal.  A  conversation  began,  and  it  was  soon  proved 
to  me  that,  if  the  Moscow  domino  had  never 'met  me 
before  this  ball,  she  was  at  least  perfectly  familiar  with 
my  writings.  It  is  difficult  for  an  author,  when  a  few 
verses  of  his  poetry  and  a  few  lines  of  his  prose  are  re- 
cited to  him,  at  so  great  a  distance  from  the  Boulevard 
des  Italiens,  not  to  feel  somewhat  flattered  as  he  inhales 
this  incense,  most  fragrant  of  all  to  the  nostrils  of 
a  literary  man.  In  order  to  bring  my  amour-jpropre 
down  to  its  proper  level  again,  I  was  forced  to  remind 
myself  that  the  Russians  read  a  great  deal,  and  that  the 
most  insignificant  French  authoi's  have  a  more  numer- 
ous public  in  St.  Petersburg  and  Moscow  than  in  Paris 
itself.  However,  to  rejjay  the  compliment,  I  made  an 
exertion  to  be  gallant  and  to  answer  back  quotations  by 


BYZANTINE  ART.  31 5 

snaclriu^ftls,  a  difTicnlt  iTiatter  witli  a  domino  ciip^nlfed  in 
a  satin  sack,  the  liood  pulled  d(j\vn  over  the  forehead, 
and  the  lace  of  the  mask  as  long  as  the  beard  of  a  her- 
mit! The  onl}'  thing  visible  was  a  little  hand,  reasona- 
bly slender,  and  gloved  severely  in  black.  This  was 
too  much  mystery  by  far :  a  man  under  these  circum- 
stances could  be  agj'ecable  only  at  too  great  an  expense 
of  imagination.  ]jesides  this,  I  liave  a  certain  fault 
\vhi(;h  pi-events  me  from  precipitating  myself  very  ai*- 
dently  into  masked  ball  adventures.  Behind  a  dis- 
guise, I  suppose  ngliness  more  readily  than  beauty. 
This  villanous  bit  of  black  silk,  with  its  snub-nosed 
goat's  profile,  its  narrow  eyes,  and  its  goat's  beard,  seems 
to  me  to  be  tlie  nnodel  of  the  face  beneath  it,  and  1  ha\e 
great  difficulty  in  separating  the  two.  Women  even 
whose  unquestionable  youth  and  notorious  beauty  are 
pej'foctly  known  to  me,  ^vhen  masked,  bee<jme  objects  of 
suspicion.  Of  course  I  speak  only  of  the  full  mask. 
That  little  strip  of  black  velvet,  which  our  ancestors 
called  touret  de  nes,  and  which  gi'eat  ladies  wear  out 
of  doors,  shows  the  mouth  with  its  smile  of  pearls,-  the 
fine  contours  of  cheek  and  chin,  and  by  its  intense  black 
makes  even  fairer  the  ros}'  freshness  of  the  complexion. 
It  gives  op[K»rtunity  to  coniecture  a  woman's  beauty 
without  quite  revealing  it.  it  is  a  coquettish  reticence 
and  not  a  disturbing  mystery.  At  Avorst,  you  only  risk 
a  nose  a  la  Koxelana,  in  place  of  the  Gi-eek  nose  of 
which  you  dream.  One  is  easily  consoled  for  this 
misfortune.  But  the  close  domino,  when  lifted  at 
some  propitious  moment,  may  bring  discoveries  ex- 
ti-emely  embarrassing  to  a  well-bi-ed  man.  On  this  ac- 
count, after  two  or  three  turns  through  the  ball-room,  I 
brought  back  the  mysterious  lady  to  the  group  Avhich  sho 
designated  to  me.  Thus  terminated  my  adventure  at 
the  masked  ball  in  Moscow. 

"  What !  is  that  all  ?  "  says  my  reader.  "You  are  con- 
cealing something  through  modesty.  The  domino, 
emerging  furtively  from  the  ball-room,  doubtless  indi- 


316  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

cated  a  mystevions  carriage,  and  bade  you  enter  it  and 
seat  yourself  at  her  side.  Then  the  lady  tied  her  lace 
handkerchief  about  your  eyes,  sa^ung  that  Love  should 
be  blind  ;  and,  after  the  carriage  stopped,  taking  you 
by  the  hand,  she  led  you  down  long  corridors,  till,  the 
use  of  your  eyes  being  restored  to  you,  yon  found  your 
self  in  a  superbly  lighted  boudoir.  Tiie  lady  had  laid 
aside  her  mask,  and  freed  herself  from  her  domino,  as 
tlie  ]-adiant  butterfly  throws  oif  its  dull-colored  envel- 
ope ;  she  smiled  upon  you,  and  seemed  to  enj(w  your- 
surprise.  Tell  us,  was  she  blonde  or  hrune  f  had  she  a 
little  mark  at  the  corner  of  her  mouth,  by  whicli  we 
nuiy  know  her  when  we  meet  her  in  Paris,  in  society  ? 
We  trust  you  sustained  the  honor  of  France  in  a  foreign 
land,  and  that  you  showed  yourself  tender,  gallant, 
witt}",  original,  impassioned, — in  fine,  equal  to  tlie  occa- 
sion. An  adventure  at  a  masked  l^all  in  Moscow! 
Nice  title  for  a  story,  by  which  you  have  not  profited  ; 
you — ordinaril}'  so  ]u-olix  when  there  are  walls,  land- 
scapes, or  pictures  to  be  described  !  " 

Truly, — though  you  should  take  me  for  a  broken- 
down  Don  Juan,  a  Valmont  who  lias  retired  from  the 
Vv'orld,— this  is  all  that  happened.  The  adventure 
ended  there;  and  after  a  glass  of  tea  mingled  with 
Bordeaux  wine,  I  returned  to  my  sledge,  which  trans- 
ported me  in  a  few  minutes  to  my  hotel  in  the  Street  of 
the  Old  Newspapers. 

The  day  had  been  M^ell  filled  :  in  the  morning,  the 
convent;  in  the  evening, the  ball ;  the  nun,  the  domino, 
Byzantine  painting,  and  the  Tzigani, — I  deserved  to 
sleep  well ! 

On  a  journey  you  feel  the  value  of  time  much  more 
than  in  the  every-day  routine  of  life.  For  a  few  weeks, 
or  months  at  most,  you  find  yourself  in  a  country 
whither  it  is  possible  j^ou  may  never  return  ;  a  thousand 
curious  things  which  you  will  not  see  again  solicit  3'our 
attention.  Tliei'e  is  not  rr  moment  to  be  lost,  and  3'our 
eyes — like   people   eating   lunch  at    a  railway   station 


BYZANTI2^E  ART.  317 

and  dreading  the  whistle  for  departure— devonr  double 
morsels.  Every  hour  has  its  euiploy.  The  al)sen(',e  of 
business  affairs,  of  regular  occu])ations,  of  work,  of  an- 
noyances, of  visits  to  receive  and  repay,  the  isolation  in 
an  unfamiliar  atmosphere,  the  constant  use  of  a  car- 
riage, singularly  lengthens  out  life,  and  yet,  strange  to 
sa}^,  tlie  time  does  not  appear  short;  three  months  on  a 
journey  are  equal  in  duration  to  a  year  in  one's  accns- 
tt)mcd  residence.  Wlien  you  are  at  home,  the  days,  in 
no  way  distinguished  one  from  another,  drop  succes- 
si\el3^  into  the  gulf  of  oblivion,  and  leave  no  trace  be- 
hind them.  In  visiting  a  country  wliich  is  new  to  you, 
unusual  objects  and  unex])ected  acts  mark  the  way  all 
along  in  3'our  memory,  and,  staking  off  the  time,  meas- 
ure it,  and  make  you  appreciate  its  extent. 

Apelles  was  w^ont  to  sa}'- :  Nulla  dies  sine  linea ; 
(for  lack  of  Greek,  I  quote  the  Latin — it  must  be  owned 
these  are  not  the  very  words  of  the  painter  of  Cani- 
paspe.)  The  tourist  sJiould  convert  this  sentence  to  his 
own  use,  and  say,  "No  day  without  an  expedition." 

In  accordance  with  this  precept,  the  day  after  my 
visit  to  Troitza,  I  went  to  see  the  Museum  of  Can-iages 
and  the  Priests'  Treasury  at  the  Krendin. 

It  is  a  curious  exhibition,  this,  of  antique  and  stately 
vehicles  ;  coronation  carriages,  gala  carriages,  carriages 
for  travelling  and  for  country  use,  post-chaises,  sledges, 
and  other  vehicles.  Man,  like  nature,  advances  from 
the  complicated  to  the  simple,  from  the  enormous  to 
the  proportionate,  from  sumptuousness  to  elegance. 
Carriage-making,  like  the  fauna  of  primitive  times,  has 
had  its  mastodons  and  its  mannnoths.  You  stand 
amazed  before  the  wondrous  machines  on  wheels,  with 
their  tangled  a])paratus  for  suspension,  their  springs 
like  a  pair  of  tongs,  their  levers,  their  thick  leather 
heUing.  their  massive  wheels,  their  twisted  swans'  necks, 
their  driver's  seats  high  as  the  forecastle  of  a  ship,  their 
body  as  large  as  a  modern  suite  of  rooms,  their  steps 
like  a  staircase,  their  outside  perches  for  pages,  their 


318  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

platforms  for  lackeys,  their  imperials  crowned  with 
Ijalconies,  with  allegorical  figures  and  plumes.  It  is  a 
world  in  itself ;  and  you  ask  how  an  engine  like  this 
can  be  set  in  motion ;  eight  enormous  Mecklenburg 
horses  are  scarcely  enough.  But  if  these  carriages, 
considered  in  respect  to  locomotion,  belong  to  a  bar- 
baric age,  as  works  of  art  tliey  are  very  marvels. 
Everything  is  carved,  ornamented,  wronght,  with  ex- 
quisite taste.  Upon  gilded  backgrounds  are  spread  or.t 
cliarming  pictures,  done  by  a  master's  hand,  which,  de- 
tached from  their  panels,  would  make  a  fine  apj^ear- 
ance  in  museums.  They  are  all  Loves,  groups  of  at- 
tributes, bouquets  of  flowers,  garlands,  Ijlazons,  caprices 
of  every  kind.  The  windows  are  Venetian  glass,  the 
carpets  are  the  softest  and  richest  that  Smyrna  or  Con- 
stantinople ever  furnished,  the  hangings  wonld  be  the 
despair  of  our  modern  looms  :  brocade,  velvet,  damask, 
brocatelle,  cover  the  sides  and  the  seats.  The  carriages 
of  Catherine  I.  and  Catherine  II.  contain  toilette  and 
card  tables,  and,  as  a  characteristic  detail,  colored  and 
gilded  stoves  of  Saxon  porcelain.  The  sledges  for  state 
occasions  display  also  ingeniously  grotesque  shapes  and 
ornaments  charmingly  fanciful.  But  the  most  curious 
thing  is  the  collection  of  saddles  for  men  and  for 
women,  and  of  harnesses  of  every  description.  Most 
of  these  came  from  the  East,  and  were  sent  as  presents 
to  Czars  and  Czarinas,  by  Emperors  of  Constantinople, 
Grand  Turks,  and  Persian  Shahs.  There  is  a  frantic 
extravagance  of  gold  and  silver  embroidery,  completely 
covering  the  velvet  or  brocade  on  which  it  is  wronght, 
with  stars  and  suns  made  of  precious  stones.  The  bits, 
the  headstalls,  the  curias,  are  set  with  diamonds  ;  and  the 
bridles,  of  leather  daintily  quilted  with  gold  thread  or 
colored  silk,  are  incrusted  with  uncut  turquoises,  rubies, 
emeralds,  and  sapphires.  Like  the  Asiatic  barbarian 
that  I  am,  I  confess  this  extravagant  s]:)lendor  of  rad- 
dlery  is  more  seductive  to  me  than  the  modern  English 
style  ;  very  fashionable,  doubtless,  but  so  meagre  in  ap- 


BYZANTINE  ART.  319 

pearance,  so  poor  in  material,  and  so  sober  in  ornamen- 
tation. 

A  sight  of  these  immense  and  sumptuous  veliicles 
tells  more  of  ancient  court-life  than  all  the  memoirs  of 
Dangeau  and  other  chroniclers  of  the  palace.  It  brings 
before  the  mind  enormous  waj's  of  living  which  would 
be  impossible  at  the  present  day,  even  with  absolute 
power,  for  the  prevalent  simplicity  of  manners  invades 
even  the  abodes  of  sovereigns.  The  gala-dress,  the 
grand  ceremonial  costume  is  now  but  a  masquerade, 
hastily  laid  aside  as  soon  as  the  fete  is  over.  Save  on 
his  coronation-day,  the  emperor  never  wears  his  crown. 
He  wears  a  hat  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  when  he 
goes  out,  it  is  in  no  gilded  coach  drawn  by  white  horses 
with  waving  plumes.  Once  these  magnificences  were 
ill  daily  use.  Men  lived  familiarly  amidst  this  pomp 
and  splendor.  Kings  and  the  great  had  nothing,  save 
death,  in  common  with  other  men,  and  they  moved 
across  the  dazzled  earth  like  beings  of  a  different  race. 

I  was  shown  the  Priests'  Treasury,  which  is  also  in  the 
Kremlin.  This  is  the  most  prodigious  accumulation  of 
wealth  that  was  ever  dreamed  of.  There  are  to  be 
seen  ranged  in  armoires,  whose  doors  open  like  the 
leaves  of  a  shrine,  tiaras,  mitres,  caps  of  metropolitans 
and  archimandrites,  mosaics  of  precious  stones  on  bro- 
cade, dalmatics,  copes,  stoles,  robes  of  cloth,  of  gold  and 
silver,  all  flowered  witli  embroidery  and  adorned  with 
inscriptions  done  in  pearls.  At  Troitza  it  seemed  that 
there  were  no  more  pearls  in  the  world,  that  they  were 
all  gathered  in  the  bushel-measures  of  the  convent 
treasury ;  and  here  were  quite  as  many  more  in  the 
Treasury  of  the  Priests  !  How  many  sacred  chalices  of 
silver,  silver-gilt,  chased  gold,  ornamented  witli  niello- 
work,  surrounded  with  belts  of  enamel,  circled  with 
precious  stones  ;  how  many  crosses,  peopled  by  myriad 
microscopic  figures ;  how  many  rings,  crosiers,  orna- 
ments of  fabulous  splendor,  lamps,  flambeaux,  books 
bound   in  plates  of  gold  set  with  onyx,  agate,  lapis- 


320  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

lazuli,  malacliife,— liavel  not  beheld  behind  their  glass- 
doors,  with  that  delight  and  that  discouragement  which 
the  traveller  fe(ils  in  looking  at  something  which  he 
must  describe  in  but  a  few  lines,  Avliile  he  is  conscious 
that  it  deserves  a  treatise  in  whose  preparation  he  might 
spend  an  entire  lifetime  ! 

In  the  evening,  I  went  to  the  theatre.  It  is  large  and 
splendid,  and  reminds  me  of  the  Odeon  in  Paris  and 
the  theatre  at  Bordeaux.  This  perfect  regularity  of  ar- 
rangement touches  me  but  little,  and,  for  my  part,  I 
should  prefer  any  little  disorderly  architectural  caprice 
in  the  style  of  Yassili  Blagennoi,  for  instance ;  but  that 
would  be  less  civilized,  and  would  be  called  barbaric 
by  people  of  good  taste.  It  must,  however,  be  admitted 
that,  the  type  being  what  it  is,  the  theatre  at  Moscow 
leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  Everything  is  on  a  grand 
scale, — stately,  sumptuous.  The  painting  of  the  audi- 
ence-room, red  and  gold,  gratifies  the  eye  with  its  sober 
splendor,  favorable  to  toilettes,  and  the  imperial  box, 
placed  just  opposite  the  stage,  with  its  gilt  staves,  its 
double-headed  eagles,  its  blazons  and  scrolls,  produces  a 
superb  and  imposing  effect ;  it  cuts  two  rows  of  boxes, 
and  makes  a  pleasing  interruption  to  the  curving  lines 
of  the  galleries.  As  In  La  Scala,  San  Carlo,  and  all  the 
great  Italian  theatres,  a  broad  passage-way  surrounds 
the  parterre  and  facilitates  access,  rendered  also  still 
more  easy  by  an  aisle  through  the  centre  of  the  house. 
Nowhere  is  space  so  parsimcmiously  economized  as  in 
Paris.  The  orchestra-chairs  in  the  theatre  at  Moscow 
are  admirable,  but  anywhere  in  the  house  you  are  weU 
seated.  The  spectator  is  never  sacrificed  to  the  specta- 
cle, as  is  too  apt  to  be  the  case  in  Parisian  theatres,  and 
pleasure  is  not  bought  at  the  expense  of  torture.  You 
liave  ai'ound  you  that  full  amount  of  space  judged  neces- 
sary l)y  Stendhal  for  the  best  enjoyment  of  music  with- 
out l)cing  molested  by  the  influence  of  your  neighbor. 
With  that  art  of  heating  which  the  Russians  possess  in 
the  highest  degi-ee,  and  which  is  with  them  a  question 


BYZANTINE  ART.  321 

of  life  or  deatli,  a  mild,  equal  temperature  is  maintained 
everywliere,  and  one  does  not  run  the  risk,  if  he  open 
the  door  of  his  l)OX  part  way, of  receiving  tl)Ose  doat-lies 
of  cokl  air  which  strike  the  shoulders  so  unpleasantly. 

However,  comfortable  as  it  was,  the  theatre  was  not 
ver}''  well  HUed  that  evening.  There  were  great  empty 
spaces  among  the  boxes,  and  almost  whole  rows  of 
benches  remained  unoccupied,  or  presented  rare  groups 
of  spectators  scattered  here  and  there.  The  crowd 
must  needs  be  enormous  to  fill  these  immense  tlieatres. 
In  Kussia,  everything  is  on  too  large  a  scale,  and  seems 
made  for  a  populati(Mi  to  come.  It  was  an  evening  of 
ballet,  for  ballet  and  opera  alternate  at  Russian  theatres, 
and  are  not  combined  as  in  Paris.  The  story  of  the 
performance  that  evening  I  do  not  remember.  It  was 
as  disconnected  as  the  Italian  librettos,  and  only  served 
to  string  together  a  succession  (^f  ^;a.s  favorable  to  the 
talent  of  the  actors.  Although  I  ha\e  made progranjnies 
for  ballets  myself  and  understand  the  langnage  of  pan- 
tomime reasonably  well,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
follow  the  thread  of  the  action  amid  the  j>as,  de  trois, 
the  pas  de  deux,  tlie^as  seuls,  and  the  evolutions  of  the 
corps  de  ballet,  who  manoeuvred  with  admirable  har- 
mony and  precision.  What  pleased  me  most  was  a  kind 
of  mazurka,  performed  by  a  dancer  named  Alexandroff, 
with  a  stately  grace  and  elegance  very  remote  from  the 
disagreeable  affectations  of  ordinary  male  dancers. 

The  traveller's  life  is  made  up  of  contrasts:  the  fol- 
lowing day  I  went  to  visit  the  convent  of  Romanoff,  a 
few  miles  distant  from  Moscow.  This  convent  is  cele- 
brated for  the  excellent  sacred  music  performed  there. 
Like  Tro'itza,  its  exterior  resembles  a  fortress.  Within 
its  walls  are  many  chapels  and  buildings,  and  a  ceme- 
tery, whose  appearance  in  winter  is  particularly  doleful. 
There  is  nothing  sadder  than  these  crosses  embedded  in 
snow,  these  funereal  urns  and  colunms  emei-giug  from 
the  white  covering  which  is  spread  like  a  second  shroud 
above  the  dead.  You  cannot  rid  yourself  of  tlie  idea 
14* 


322  A  WINTER  IN   RUSSIA. 

lliat  tlie  hapless  sleepers  who  lie  beneath  all  this  mass 
of  snow  must  feel  that  they  are  very  cold,  and  that  tliey 
are  buried  more  deeply  in  oblivion,  for  even  their 
names  are  hidden  by  it,  and  the  pious  sentences  wherein 
their  souls  are  recommended  to  the  prayers  of  the  livin<^. 

Casting  a  melancholy  glance  at  these  half-coveretl 
tombs,  wiioso  desolation  seemed  yet  further  increased  by 
a  few  black  leaves  of  some  evergreen  trees,  I  entered 
the  cluu'ch.  The  iconostase,  all  gilt  from  top  to  bottom, 
specially  attracted  my  attention  by  its  prodigious  height, 
greater  than  that  of  the  tallest  Spanisli  altar-screens. 
Service  was  going  on,  and,  as  I  entered,  1  was  sm-prised 
to  hear  sounds  resembling  tlie  bass  notes  of  our  organs, — 
for  I  knew  that  the  Greek  ritual  does  not  allow  the  use 
of  tiiese  instruments.  I  was  soon  set  right  on  this  point, 
for,  as  I  approached  the  iconostase,  I  perceived  a  group 
of  singers,  heavily  bearded  and  dressed  iu  black,  like 
Russian  priests.  Instead  of  chanting  with  full  voice  as 
ours  do,  tliey  sought  for  more  suljdued  effects,  and  pro- 
duced a  kind  of  humming  sound  whose  charm  is  more 
easily  felt  than  described  ;  imagine  the  noise  which 
tJiose  great  nocturnal  moths  make  in  flying,  on  a  sum- 
mer night ;  the  note  is  grave,  sweet,  and  yet  penetrating. 
I  think  tliere  were  a  dozen  of  them,  distinguishable 
from  the  bassos  by  the  way  in  which  they  swelled  out 
their  throats,  and  the  sounds  emerged  from  their 
mouths  almost  without  one's  being  able  to  see  them 
move  their  lips. 

The  imperial  choir  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  this  in  the 
convent  of  Komanoff,  are  the  finest  I  have  lieard  in  the 
domain  of  religious  music.  We  doubtless  possess  musi- 
cal compositions  more  scientific  and  more  beautiful, 
l;)ut  the  manner  in  which  the  phiin-song  is  executed  in 
Russia  adds  to  it  a  mysterious  grandeur  and  an  inex- 
pi-essible  charm.  It  was,  I  was  told,  St.  John  Damas- 
cene who,  in  the  eighth  century,  made  a  genei-al  reform 
in  sacred  music ;  it  has  been  but  little  modified  since 
that  time,  and  they  are  the  same  chants,  arranged  for 


BYZANTINE  ART.  323 

four  voices  by  modern  composers,  which  I  heard.  For 
a  iftoment  the  Italian  inthience  invaded  lliissian  chnrch- 
miisic;  but  it  very  soon  ceased,  and  the  emperor  Alex- 
,  ander  I.  would  sidfer  nothing  but  the  ancient  chants  to 
be  performed  by  his  own  choir.. 

Returning  to  the  hotel,  and  yet  vibrating  from  the 
celestial  harmony,  I  found  letters  which  recalled  me  to 
St.  Petersburg ;  and  with  great  regret,  I  bade  adieu  to 
Moscow, — Moscow,  the  true  Ilussian  city  !  crowned  by 
the  Ki-emlin  with  its  hundred  domes. 


EETDEN   TO   FKANCE. 

LUEADY  I  liacl  postponed  for  days,  for  weeks, 
even  for  months,  the  time  of  my  departure  for 
home.  St.  Petersburg  had  been  a  kind  of  icy  Capua 
for  my  courage,  wliere  I  had  become  enervated  by  the 
hixuries  of  a  charming  life,  and  it  cost  something,  I  am 
not  ashamed  to  confess,  to  return  to  Paris  to  assume 
once  more  the  coUar  of  th'e  daily  newspaper  which  so 
long  had  rubbed  my  shoulders.  To  the  charm  of  new 
scenes — to  me  always  so  great — had  been  added  that  of 
the  most  agreeable  social  relations.  I  had  been  petted, 
entertained,  indulged,  loved  even, — I  am  foolish  enough 
to  believe, — and  all  this  cannot  be  left  without  regret. 
Russian  life,  smooth,  caressing,  flattering,  wrapped  me 
about,  and  I  found  it  hard  to  La}'  aside  that  soft  pelisse. 
Yet  it  is  impossible  to  remain  at  St.  Petersburg  forever  ! 
Letters  from  France  arrived,  each  more  ui'gent  than  the 
last,  and  the  momentous  day  was  irre vocal )ly  fixed. 

I  have  said  that  I  became  a  member  of  the  Vendre- 
diens,  a  society  of  young  artists  who  meet  every  Friday 
at  each  other's  houses,  and  pass  the  evening  in  executing 
in  pencil,  water-colors,  or  sepia,  improvised  compositions 
which  are  sold  at  Beggrow's,  the  Susse  of  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  whose  proceeds  serve  to  aid  some  comrade  in 
unfortunate  circumstances.  About  midnight,  a  merry 
supper  terminates  the  evening's  work;  the  drawing 
materials  are  cleared  away,  and  we  attack  macaroni, — 
that  classic  dish, — salmis  de  gelinotfes^  or  some  huge  fish 
caught  in  the  Neva  through  holes  made  in  the  ice.  The 
entertainment  is  more  or  less  sumptuous  according  to  the 
Huaucial  condition  of  that  Veiidredien  who  receives  the 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  325 

club  on  tlie  given  evening.  Bat,  be  the  beverage  wliat  it 
may, — Jjordeaux  wine,  champagne,  or  only  English  ale,  or 
even  kwas, — none  the  less  the  supper  is  gay,  cordial,  and 
fraternal.  Droll  stories,  studio  jokes,  agreeable  nonsense, 
unexpected  v/itticisms,  flash  on  all  sides  like  sky-rockets. 
Then  tliey  go  off  in  groups,  according  as  their-  liome- 
ward  ways  lie  in  the  same  direction,  carrying  on  the  con- 
versation still,  through  the  streets,  silent,  deserted, 
white  with  snow,  in  which  no  sound  is  heard  save  our 
bursts  of  laughter,  the  barking  of  some  dog  who  is 
wakened  as  we  go  by,  and  the  watchman  dragging  his 
iron-shod  stick  along  the  pavement. 

Tlie  Friday  whicli  happened  to  be  the  evening  be- 
fore my  departure,  brought  precisely  my  turn  to  entertain 
the  com}:)any,  and  they  assembled,  to  a  man,  at  my  lodg- 
ings in  the  Morska'ia  street.  Considering  the  solenmity 
of"  the  occasion,  Imbert,  a  celebrated  chef  from  the  Im- 
perial household,  consented  to  ai-range  the  memi  for  the 
supper,  and  deigned  even  to  put  his  own  hand  to  it,  in 
the  preparation  of  a  chaud-froid  de  gelinottes,  the  like 
of  which  I  have  never  seen  on  any  table.  Imbert  es- 
teemed me  by  reason  of  a  risotto  I  executed  once  in  his 
presence,  in  accordance  with  the  purest  Milanese  recipe, 
alter  we  had  been  having  some  conversation  on  the  sub- 
ject of  exotic  cuisines  ;  lie  had  pronounced  it  exquisite, 
and  considered  me  no  longer  a  boargeois  ;  quite  aside 
from  any  literary  attainments,  he  regarded  me  as  an  ar- 
tist !  ISTever  was  approbation  more  tiattering  to  me  ;  and 
he  now  made  this  chaud-froid  for  a  palate  he  judged 
duly  appreciative  of  its  merit. 

As  usual,  the  evening  began  with  work ;  each  man 
took  his  place  at  a  desk  prepared  in  advance  under  a 
shaded  lamp.  But  tlie  work  made  little  progress  ;  every- 
body seemed  preoccupied;  conversation  kept  all  pencils 
sus})ended,  and  bistre  and  India  iuk  dried  in  the  cup  be- 
tween one  touch  and  the  next.  For  nearly  seven  months 
I  had  lived  as  a  comrade  with  these  young  men,  bril- 
liant, sympathetic,  lovers  of  the  beautiful,  and  full  of 


326  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

generous  ideas.  I  was  about  to  leave  them.  When  people 
separate,  who  knows  if  ever  they  shall  meet  again  !— es- 
pecially when  a  great  distance  lies  between,  and  your 
lives,  which  for  a  time  have  mingled,  return  into  their 
wonted  channels.  A  certain  melancholy,  therefore,  hung 
over  the  Vendrediens,  and  the  announcement  of  sup- 
per came  opportunely  to  scatter  it.  The  toasts  drank  to 
my  prosperous  journey  brought  back  the  lost  gayety,  and 
we  were  so  long  in  draining  the  stirrup-cup,  that  they  re- 
solved to  stay  till  morning  and  to  accompany  me  en  masse 
to  the  railway-station. 

The  season  was  advancing ;  the  great  breaking  up 
had  taken  place  in  the  Neva,  and  now  only  some  float- 
ino-  ice  was  coming  down  to  melt  and  disappear  in  the  gulf 
which  was  open  for  the  season.  The  roofs  had  lost  their 
ermine  covering,  and  in  the  streets  the  snow,  changed 
into  black  paste,  splashed  up  at  every  step.  The  damage 
done  by-the  winter,  which  the  white  coating  had  long 
masked  from  sight,  appeared  full  in  view.  The  pave- 
ments were  dislocated,  the  roadway  broken  up,  and  our 
droschky,  rudely  shaken  oatof  one  quagmire  into  another, 
gave  us  terrific'^blows  in  the  back,  and  made  us  jump  up 
like  peas  on  a  drum  ;  for  the  bad  condition  of  the  roads 
by  no  means  prevented  the  isvochtchiks  from  going  as 
if  the  devil  were  carrying  them  off;  if  only  the  two 
front  wheels  follow  them,  they  are  satisfied,  and  care 
but  little  what  becomes  of  the  passenger. 

We  soon  reached  the  railway-station,  and  there,  find- 
ing that  separation  even  then  was  coming  too  soon,  the 
whole  i)arty  entered  the  train  and  resoved  to  accompany 
me  as  far  as  Pskov,  at  that  time  the  extent  of  the  road. 
The  habit  of  thus  escorting  friends  or  relatives  who  are 
going  away  seems  to  me  peculiar  to  Russia,  and  it  is  a 
custom  that  pleases  me.  The  bitterness  of  departure  is 
softened  by  it,  and  solitude  does  not  too  rudely  succeed 
to  enil)races  and  the  grasp  of  friendly  hands. 

At  Pskov,  however,  the  parting  must  needs  take  place. 
The    Vendredlens  went  back  to  St.  Petersburg  by  the 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE..  327 

return  train  ;  this  was  my  real  departure  ;  the  true  jour- 
ney was  now  about  to  connneuce. 

I  was  not  retuniiuii;  t(j  France  alone  ;  I  liad  for  my 
travelling  companion  a  young  man  who  had  been  living 
in  the  same  house  with  me  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  with 
wliom  I  has  speedily  formed  ties  of  friendship.  Al- 
though a  Frenchman,  he  knew — a  rare  thing  ! — almost  all 
the  northern  languages  :  German,  Swedish,  Polish,  and 
Russian, speaking  tliem  like  his  mother-tongue;  he  had 
travelled  much  in  Pussia,  in  all  directions,  in  velsicles 
of  every  kind,  and  in  all  temperatures.  In  travelling 
he  exhibited  admii-able  self-control,  could  do  without 
ever^'thing,  and  had  an  astonishing  power  of  resisting 
fatigue,  although  be  seemed  of  a  delicate  organization, 
and  was  accustomed  to  a  life  of  the  ntmost  comfort. 
Without  him,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  me 
to  have  accomplished  my  homeward  journey  at  that 
season  of  the  year,  and  over  roads  so  nearly  impass- 
able. 

Our  first  care  was  to  search  out  in  Pskov  a  vehicle  to 
hire  or  to  buy,  and,  after  much  going  and  coming, 
nothing  could  be  found  but  a  queer-looking  and  dilapi- 
dated old  droschky  whose  springs  did  not  inspire  much 
confidence.  We  bought  it,  but  with  the  agreement  that 
if  it  broke  down  befoi'C  making  forty  versts,  the  seller 
should  take  it  back,  receiving  a  slight  compensation  for 
damages.  My  prudent  friend  was  the  person  Avho  sug- 
gested this  clause,  which  proved  useful,  as  we  shall  see. 

Our  trunks  were  fastened  to  the  back  of  thefraU  vehi- 
cle ;  we  seated  ourselves  u])on  the  narrow  box,  and  the 
driver  lashed  his  horses  to  a  gallop.  It  was  truly  the 
woi-st  season  of  the  year  to  travel  in  this  country :  the 
highway  was  but  a  road  of  mud,  relatively  a  little  more 
solid  tlian  the  vast  marsh  of  liquid  mire  which  lay  on 
both  sides  of  it.  At  the  right,  at  the  left,  and  in  front 
of  us,  the  scene  consisted  of  a  sky  splashed  with  nuuldy 
gray,  resting  on  a  horizon  of  bhick,  wet  lands ;  here 
and  there  the  tangled,  reddish  heads  of  a  few  half  sub- 


328  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

merged  birches,  a  glimmer  of  pools  of  water,  and  now 
andthen,  a  log-hut  still  retaining  on  its  roof  shreds  of 
snow  like  sti-ips  left  in  tearing  off  wall-paper.  Through 
the  deceitful  mildness  of  the  temperature  came,  at  the 
approach  of  evening,  a  breath  of  north-wind  sharp  enough 
to  make  us  shiver  under  our  furs.  The  breeze  grew  no 
warmer  from  sweeping  over  i\\\Q puree  of  snow  and  ice ; 
bandri  of  crows  punctuated  the  sky  with  black  commas, 
and  took  their  way,  croaking  as  they  flew,  towards  their 
nocturnal  domiciles.  It  v/as  not  particularly  cheerful, 
and  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  comrade's  conversation, 
who  described  to  me  one  of  his  Swedish  journeys,  I  should 
have  been  plunged  in  melancholy, 

Mujiks'  carts,  loaded  with  wood,  were  passing  along 
the  road,  drawn  l)y  little  horses  muddy  as  spaniel-dogs 
and  making  a  deluge  of  mud  fly  about  them  ;  but  when 
they  heai-d'our  bells,  they  drew  respectfully  to  one  side 
and  let  ns  go  by.  One  of  these  mujiks  had  even  the 
good  manners  to  run  after  us  with  a  trunk  that  had  be- 
come detached,  and  whose  fall  we  had  not  heard  owing 
to  the  noise  of  our  own  wheels. 

It  was  almost  dark,  and  we  were  still  a  long  way 
from  the  post-house  ;  the  horses  went  like  the  wind, 
knowing  that  their  stables  lay  somewhere  ahead ;  the 
]ioor  droschky  bounced  upon  its  enfeebled  springs  and 
follo^.ved  in  diagonals  the  headlong  team,  its  wheels  not 
being  able  to  revolve  quickly  enough  in  the  thick  mud. 
Suddenly  it  received  a  shock  so  violent,  in  going  over 
a  stone,  tliat  wo  had  a  narrow  escape  from  being 
landed  full  in  the  mud.  One  of  the  springs  had 
broken,  the  forwai-d  part  of  the  carriage  no  longer  held 
togetlier.  Our  driver  got  off,  and  with  a  bit  of  rope 
juended  the  fractured  vehicle  as  well  as  he  could,  so 
that  we  were  able  to  arrive,  in  a  lame  condition,  at  the 
post-house.  The  droschky  had  not  made  fifteen  versts. 
It  was  impossible  to  think  of  continuing  our  journey 
witli  sucli  a  "  wooden  shoe"  as  that.  In  the  yard  of  the 
post-house   there    were  no   disposable    vehicles,  except 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  329 

telegas,  and  it  was  more  than  tlirec  hundred  miles  to 
the  frontier. 

To  appreciate  properly  the  horror  of  the  situation,  a 
brief  description  of  the  telega  is  necessary.  This  em- 
inently primitive  vehicle  is  composed  of  two  planks 
placed  lengthwise  upon  two  axletrees,  upon  which  four 
wheels  are  fastened.  The  planks  are  edged  with  a 
narrow  rack ;  a  double  rope  co\ered  with  a  sheepskin 
goes  across,  attached  at  each  end  to  the  rack,  and  forms 
a  kind  of  swing  which  serves  for  a  seat.  The  dri\ei- 
stands  upon  a  wooden  cross-beam,  or  sits  on  a  small 
plank.  The  trunks  are  heaped  n])  at  the  back.  To 
this  machine  are  attached  live  little  horses  that  a 
Jiacre  would  disdain,  so  piteous  is  their  mien  in  repose, 
and  that  the  best  race-horses  could  hardly  keep  up 
with,  when  once  they  are  fairly  launched.  It  is  not  a 
means  of  transportation  suited  to  a  sybarite ;  but  at 
the  break-neck  pace  we  go,  the  telega  is  the  only  ve- 
hicle that  can  resist  the  roads,  broken  up  by  the  thaw. 

We  held  a  council  in  the  yard.  My  companion  said 
to  me:  "  Wait  till  I  return.  I  will  push  on  tothe  fn-st 
relay,  and  will  come  back  for  you  with  a  carriage, — if 
I  find  one." 

"  But  why  ? "  I  asked,  much  surprised  at  this  propo- 
sition. 

"For  this  reason,"  said  my  friend,  concealing  a 
smile  ;  "  I  have  undertaken  many  a  journey  in  a  telega 
before  this,  with  comi)anions  who  seemed  courageous 
and  robust.  They  climbed  bravely  upon  the  seat,  and, 
for  the  iirst  hour,  confined  themselves  to  some  grimaces 
and  contortions,  which  they  immediately  suppressed. 
But  soon,  with  broken  back  and  aching  knees,  and 
brain  shaken  about  in  the  skull  like  a  dry  nut  in  its 
shell,  they  began  to  swear,  to  groan,  to  bewail  them- 
selves, and  to' reproach  me.  Some  of  them  wept,  and 
implored  me  to  put  them  on  the  ground,  or  to  throw 
them  into  a  ditch,  preferring  to  die  of  hunger  or  cold 
upon  the  spot,  or  to  be  eaten   by  wolves,  rather  than 


330  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

longer  to  undergo  such  torture.  Nobody  ever  went  be- 
yond thirty  miles." 

"  You  have  too  poor  an  opinion  of  ine,"  I  rejoined. 
"  I  am  not  an  effeminate  traveller.  The  galleys  of 
Cordova,  of  which  the  l)ottom  is  only  a  netting  of  cord- 
age,— the  tartanes  of  Valencia,  which  resemble  boxes 
in  wJiich  billets  are  rolled  about  to  round  them,  have 
not  wrung  one  lamentation  from  me.  I  have  travelled 
post  in  a  cart,  holding  on  with  feet  and  hands  to  the 
rack.  There  is  nothing  about  the  telega  that  can  sur- 
prise me.  If  I  complain,  you  may  reply  like  Gauti- 
mozin  to  his  companion  on  the  gridiron :  '  Am  I  on  a 
bed  of  roses  ? '  " 

My  brave  Ye\)\j  seemed  to  convince  him.  They  put 
horses  to  a  telega,  heaped  onr  luggage  on  it,  and  we 
were  off. 

"  But  dinner  ? "  yon  say ;  "  the  Friday  evening  sup- 
per must  be  digested  by  this  time,  and  a  conscientious 
traveller  owes  to  his  readers  the  bill  of  fare  of  the 
slightest  repast  made  upon  the  journey."  I  only  took 
a  glass  of  tea  and  a  thin  slice  of  black  bread ;  for 
when  you  are  making  one  of  these  unreasonable 
journeys,  you  should  not  eat,  any  more  than  does  the 
postilion  riding  post, 

I  am  not  prepared  to  make  the  paradoxical  assertion 
that  the  telega  is  the  easiest  vehicle  in  the  world.  But 
in  truth  it  seemed  to  me  more  tolerable  than  I  ex- 
pected, and  I  maintained  myself  without  too  much 
trouble  upo]i  the  horizontal  rope,  which  was  sonaewhat 
improved  by  the  sheepskin  over  it. 

With  the  coming  on  of  night  the  wind  had  grown 
piercing ;  the  sky  was  now  free  from  all  vapors,  and 
the  stars  shone,  large  and  bright,  in  the  sombre  blue,  as 
when  the  weather  clears  off  cold  after  a  storm. 

Amid  thaws,  these  returns  of  cold  are  not  uncommon. 
The  winter  of  the  North  retreats  unwillingly  towards 
the  pole,  and  comes  back  now  and  then  to  iiini^  a 
handful  of   snow  into  the  face  of   spring.     By  mid- 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  331 

night,  the  mud  had  completely  hardened,  the  pools  of 
water  had  frozen  over,  and  the  heaps  of  stiffened  uiire 
caused  the  telega  to  jolt  worse  than  before. 

AVe  reached  the  post-house,  which  could  readily  be 
identified  by  its  white  fa9ade  and  the  columns  of  its 
portico.  Ail  these  relay-houses  are  alike,  built,  from 
one  end  of  the  empire  to  the  other,  upon  a  prescribed 
model.  They  took  us  off  the  telega  and  our  luggage 
with  us,  and  placed  us  on  another,  which  set  off  at  the 
instant.  We  went  at  a  headlong  rate,  and  vao:ue  sha])es, 
half  seen  through  the  darkness,  fled  past  us  in  disorder 
on  each  side  the  road,  like  a  routed  army.  It  seemed 
that  some  unknown  enemy  was  pursuing  these  phan- 
toms. Hallucinations  of  the  night  began  to  molest  my 
sleepy  eyes,  and  dreams  unconsciously  were  mingled 
with  thoughts.  I  had  not  been  in  bed  the  whole  pre- 
vious night,  and  the  imperious  necessity  of  sleep  made 
iny  head  waver  from  one  shoulder  to  the  other.  My 
companion  bade  me  sit  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  ve- 
hicle, and  clas])ed  my  temples  between  his  knees  tiiat  I 
might  not  crack  my  skull  against  the  rack.  The  most 
violent  antics  of  the  telega,  which  sometimes,  in 
sandy  or  swampy  parts  of  the  road,  passed  over  logs 
laid  transversely,  did  not  awaken  me,  but  made  the 
design  of  my  dream  deviate,  like  an  artist's,  whose 
elbow  one  pushes  as  lie  is  at  work  ;  the  figure  which 
began  as  the  profile  of  an  angel,  ends,  the  mask  of  an 
imp. 

My  sleep  lasted  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  and  I 
awoke  rested  and  fresh,  as  if  I  had  slept  in  my  bed.  ^ 

There  is  an  intuxi(;ating  delight  in  rapid  motion. 
What  joy  to  sweep  like  a  whirlwind,  with  a  noise  of 
wheels  and  bells,  through  the  vast  silence  of  the  night, 
while  all  men  are  asleep, — seen  by  the  stars  only,  who 
wink  their  golden  eyes  and  seem  to  point  out  to  you 
your  road.  The  consciousness  of  action,  of  motion,  of 
going  forward  towards  a  goal,  during  hours  ordinarily 
lost,  inspires  you  with  a  queer  sort  of  pride ;  you  ad- 


332  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

mire  yourself,  Jind  think  somewhat  scornfully  of  the 
philistines  who  are  snoring  nncler  their  coverlets. 

At  the  next  relay  the  same  ceremony ;  entrance  with 
a  grand  flourish  into  a  court-yard  ;  ourselves  decanted 
rapidly  fi-om  one  telega  to  another;  departni-e  an  galop. 

"  Well !  "  I  said  to  my  companion,  when  we  had 
emerged  from  the  post-house,  and  the  postilion  was 
sending  his  horses  along  the  road  at  the  very  top  of 
their  speed,  "  I  have  not  yet  cried  for  mercy,  and  the 
telega  has  been  knocking  ns  about  for  a  very  i-espectable 
number  of  miles.  My  arms  still  are  fast  at  the  shoulders, 
my  legs  are  not  put  out  of  joint,  and  my  dorsal  vertebi-a3 
still  supi)ort  my  head." 

''  I  luid  no  idea  you  were  such  a  veteran.  Now  the 
worst  is  over,  and  I  think  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to  de- 
posit you  by  the  roadside,  with  a  handkerchief  tied  to  a 
pole  to  solicit  for  you  the  compassion  of  an}'  coach  or 
post-chaise  that  might  chance  to  [)ass  through  these  des- 
ert solitudes.  But  as  you  have  slept,  it  is  now  your 
turn  to  watch  ;  I  propose  to  close  my  eyes  for  a  few 
minutes.  Don't  forget,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  pace,  to 
hit  the  mnjik  in  the  back  every  now  and  then  with  yonr 
fist ;  he  will  pass  it  on  to  the  horses  in  the  form  of  a 
slap  with  the  reins.  Also  call  him  '  Durak  ! '  in  a  gruff 
voice  ;  it  can  do  no  harm." 

I  acquitted  myself  conscientiously  of  the  task  thus 
laid  upon  me  ;  but  let  me  hasten  to  say, — that  I  may 
escape  the  accusation  of  cruelty  in  the  eyes  of  philan- 
thropists,— that  the  mnjik  was  clad  in  a  thick  touloupe 
of  sheepskin,  whose  wool  deadened  every  shock  from 
without.     My  blow  was  delixered  upon  a  mattress. 

When  daylight  came,  I  saw  with  surprise  that  snow 
had  fallen  over  all  the  country  lying  befoie  ns.  Noth- 
ing could  have  been  more  dismal  than  this  snow,  whose 
thin  layer,  like  a  shroud  in  rags,  only  half-covered  the 
ugliness  and  poverty  of  the  soil,  broken  up  by  the  re- 
cent thaw.  On  the  slope  of  rising  ground  where  it  lay  in 
narrow  strips,  it  vaguely  suggested  the  columns  of  Turk- 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  333 

isli  tombs  in  tlic  cemetery  of  Eyoiil)  or  of  Scutari, 
which  ba^•e  beeu  thrown  down  or  made  to  lean  over  in 
curious  positions,  by  the  sinking  in  of  the  ground. 

After  a  time  the  wind  began  to  taken])  clouds  of  lino 
pulverized  snow,  resembling  sleet,  which  stung  njy  eyes, 
and  pierced  with  a  million  fine  icy  needles  that  iiart  of 
my  face  which  the  necessity  of  i-espiration  forced  me  to 
leave  uncovered.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine  anything 
more  disagreeable  than  this  small,  teasing  torture,  which 
was  augmented  by  the  speed  of  the  telega  going  against 
the  wind.  My  nnistache  was  soon  set  thick  with  white 
])earls,  and  bristling  with  stalactites,  through  which  my 
breath  came  out  vapory  and  bluish,  as  the  smoke  from 
a  pipe.  I  felt  chilled  to  the  very  marrow  of  my  bones, 
for  damp  cold  is  far  worse  than  dry,  and  I  experienced 
that  raatntinal  discomfort  known  of  travellers,  and 
those  who  have  been  having  nocturnal  adventures. 
Franc  comjptKjnon  though  one  may  be,  the  telega  for 
repose  is  not  as  good  as  a  hammock,  or  even  as  that  green 
leather  sofa  of  which  I  have  so  often  spoken  ! 

A  glass  of  very  hot  tea  and  a  cigar,  di-ank  and  smoked 
at  the  relay  while  they  were  putting  in  the  horses, 
quite  revived  me  again,  and  I  went  on  bravelj',  much 
nattered  by  the  compliments  of  my  companion,  who  had 
never  seen,  he  said,  any  Western  man  endure  the  telega 
with  so  nmch  heroisn). 

It  is  difKcult  to  des(n-ibc  the  country  which  we  trav- 
ersed, as  it  appears  at  this  season  of  the  year  to  the 
traveller  whom  imjierious  necessity  compels  to  cross  it. 
It  is  a  region  of  slightly  nndnlating  plains  of  blackish 
coloring,  staked  off  with  posts,  designed  to  mai'k  out  the 
road  wlien  it  is  buried  under  the  snows  of  winter,  which 
in  summer  suggest  telegi-a})hic  poles  out  of  employ- 
ment. Along  the  hori/.on  nothing  is  to  be  seen  save 
forests  of  birch-trees,  sometimes  half-buried,  and  re- 
mote villaires,  lost  amid  the  solitudes,  bet-rayed  only  by 
their  small,  bulbous  cupolas,  painted  light-green.  At 
this  moment,  upon  the  sombre  background  of  nmd  stiff- 


334  ^  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

ened  l>y  tlio  night's  cold,  the  snow  spread  out  here  and 
there  long-  strips  like  pieces  (jf  linen  cloth  which  are 
nnrollcd  upon  the  grass  to  whiten  ;  or — if  this  compar- 
ison seems  too  (dieerfiil — like  wliitc  braid  sewn  upon  the 
rusty  black  of  some  funeral  decoration  of  the  poorest  kind. 

The  pallid  light,  sifted  through  the  immense  grayish 
cloud  which  covered  all  the  sky,  was  lost  in  vague  glim- 
mers, and  gave  neither  light  nor  shade  to  any  objects  ; 
nothing  had  any  relief,  all  things  seeming  mere  outline 
filled  up  with  flat  color.  In  this  ambiguous  light  every- 
thing appeared  soiled,  gray,  washed-out,  and  wan,  and 
the  colorist  would  have  taken  no  more  pleasure  than  he 
who  should  have  tried  to  sketch  this  vague,  undetined, 
drowned  landscape, — morose  rather  than  melancholy. 
But  one  thing  consoled  me  and  saved  me  from  yielding 
utterly  to  ennui,  and  that  was— despite  the  regret  I  felt 
for  St.  Petersburg — the  recollection  that  my  nose  was 
turned  toward  Frauce !  Every  jolt  through  this  dismal 
wilderness  brought  me  nearer  home,  and  I  was  soon  to 
see  if,  after  seven  months^  absence,  my  Parisian  friends 
remembered  me  yet.  Furthermore,  the  exertion  of 
making  a  difficult  journey  has  something  sustaining  in 
it,  and  the  satisfaction  of  triumphing  over  obstacles 
distracts  one  from  the  small  discomforts  of  the  detail. 
A  man  who  has  seen  many  lands  does  not  count  on 
finding  "  enchanting  scenes  "  at  every  step  ;  he  has  be- 
come habituated  to  these  blanks  in  nature,  who,  like  the 
greatest  poets,  sometimes  repeats  herself,  and  some- 
times nods.  More  than  once  you  are  tempted  to  say, 
like  Fantasi,  in  Alfred  de  Musset's  comedy :  "  What  a 
failure  that  sunset  is  !  Nature  is  pitiable  this  evening. 
Just  loolc  at  that  valley,  those  four  or  five  wretched 
clouds  climbing  up  that  mountain  !  I  used  to  make 
landscapes  like  that  on  the  covers  of  my  books  when  I 
was  twelve  years  old  !  " 

AVe  had  long  since  left  behind  us  Ostrov,  Regitza, 
and  other  town  or  cities,  upon  which  I,  it  will  be  readily 
believed,  did  not  make,  from  the  summit  of  my  telega, 


RETURN   TO  FRANCE.  335 

any  very  minute  ohsorvntifms.  Had  I  romainod  Ioniser 
in  each  place,  I  could  but  repeat  descriptions  already 
given,  for  they  are  all  alike  :  everywhere,  hoard  fences, 
Wooden  houses  with  douhle  windows  through  whic-h 
you  can  perceive  some  house-plant,  roofs  painted  green, 
and  a  church  with  live  bell-towers,  and  a  narthex 
colored  by  some  painter  on  a  Byzatitine  pattern. 

Amidst  this,  the  post-house  stands  distinct  with  its 
white  fa9ade,  l)efore  which  are  grouped  a  few  mujiks, 
in  their  oleaginous  touloupes,  and  some  yellow-haired 
children.     As  regards  women,  they  are  rarely  seen. 

It  was  growing  late  in  the  day,  and  we  could  not  now 
be  far  from  Dunabiirg.  We  reached  it  by  the  last  rays 
of  a  livid  sunset,  which  gave  no  very  cheerful  aspect  to 
this  town,  peopled  for  the  most  part  with  Polish  Jews. 
It  was  such  a  sky  as  one  sees  in  pic^turcs  representing 
plague-stricken  cities,  of  a  wan,  grayish  Inie,  full  of  un- 
healthy, green  tints,  like  decomposed  llesh.  Beneath 
this  sky,  the  black  houses,  soaked  with  rain  or  the  melt- 
ing snows,  dilapidated  by  the  winter,  resembled  heaj)S 
of  wood  or  iilth,  half  submerged  by  an  inundation  of 
mud.  The  streets  were  miry  torrents.  Water  set  free 
by  the  thaw  ran  down  from  every  side,  yellow,  earthy, 
blackened,  and  carrying  with  it  countless  nnnamable 
debris.  Lakes  of  slime  spread  themselves  out  in  open 
places,  islets  of  filthy  snow,  which  still  resisted  the  west 
wind,  rising  here  and  there  above  the  surface.  In 
this  nnclea'n  liquid — which  might  have  called  out  a 
liymn  in  praise  of  Macadam — the  wheels  tui-ned  like  the 
paddles  of  a  steam-bcat,  throwing  up  splashes  of  mud 
against  the  walls  and  upon  the  rare  passers-by,  who 
wore  boots  worthy  of  oystermen.  It  came  up  to  the  very 
axle-trees.  Happily,  below  this  flood,  there  remained 
still  a  wooden  ])avement,  which,  tliough  in  poor  condi- 
tion by  reason  of  being  under  water,  still  afforded  solid 
ground  at  a  certain  depth,  and  saved  us  froni  disappear- 
ing bodily,  ourselves,  telega,  and  horses,  as  in  the  Uses 
of  Mont  Saint-Michel. 


336  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

In  tlie  2;Gne]'a1  spattGi'ins;  and  splnpliiiig,  onr  pelipses 
had  become  real  celestial  globes,  with  numberless  con- 
stellations of  mud  not  described  by  the  astronomers, 
and,  if  it  had  been  possible  to  appear  filthy  at  Dunabnrg, 
we  were,  as  the  phrase  goes,  not  fit  to  be  taken  up  with 
tongs. 

The  passage  of  isolated  travellers  is  a  rare  thing  at 
this  period  ol:  the  year.  Few  people  have  the  courage 
to  make  the  journey  in  a  telega,  and  the  mail-wagon 
is  the  only  other  possible  means  of  conveyance.  Uiit 
for  this,  it  is  necessary  to  set  one's  name  down  long  in 
advance,  and  I  had  been  obliged  to  leave  in  a  hurry, 
like  the  soldier  whose  furlough  had  expired  and  who 
must  rej;)in  his  regiment  at  all  risks,  under  penalty  of 
being  considered  a  deserter. 

My  companion  held  it  as  a  principle  that  in  journeys 
like  this  it  was  best  to  eat  as  little  as  possible,  and  his 
abstinence  surpassed  that  of  the  Spaniard  or  the  Arab. 
Nevertheless,  when  I  represented  to  him  that  I  was  dy- 
in<T  with  a  virile  fury  of  hunger,  not  having  applied 
myself  to  the  satisfaction  of  "  below  tlie  nose,"  as  says 
Rabelais,  since  Friday  night — and  it  was  now  Sunday 
evening — he  kindly  yielded  to  what  he  regarded  as  a 
weakness  in  me,  and,  leaving  the  telega  at  the  relay,  set 
forth  with  me  in  search  of  a  meal  of  some  kind.  Duna- 
burg  goes  to  bed  early  ;  only  a  few  scattered  lights 
twinkled  from  the  houses.  To  walk  in  such  a  sewer 
was  not  an  easy  operation,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  at 
every  step  an  invisible  boot-jack  seized  me  by  the  heels. 
Finally  we  perceived  a  reddish  glimmer  coming  from  a 
kind  of  den  that  showed  signs  of  being  a  tavern  ;  the 
lamplight  was  mirrored  in  the  liquid  mud,  making  a 
net-woHc  red  as  the  blood  that  runs  from  under  a 
slaughter-house.  It  was  not  appetizing,  but  at  this  point 
of  Imnger  one  cannot  afford  to  be  fastidious.  We  en- 
tered, not  allowing  ourselves  to  be  repelled  by  the  nau- 
seous odor  of  the  place,  where  a  smoky  lamp  spluttered 
and  burned  with  difliculty  in  the  mephitie  atmosphere. 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  337 

Tlie  room  was  filled  with  strange-looking  Jews  clad  in 
long,  narrow  surtonts,  long  as  cassocks,  shining  with 
grease,  concerning  the  original  color  of  which  it  was 
impossible  to  say  if  it  were  black  or  purple,  maroon  or 
olive,  but  which  at  the  present  moment  presented  a  tint 
that  I  shall  designate  thus :  "  filth  intense."  They  wore 
odd-looking  hats,  with  broad  rims  and  enormous  crowns, 
discolored,  shapeless,  in  some  places,  the  fur  standing  on 
end,  in  other  places  bald,  old  enough  to  be  not  picked 
up  in  the  corner  of  a  field  by  the  hook  of  a  bankrupt 
ragpicker.  And  the  boots !  Trodden  down  at  the 
heel,  out  of  shape,  twisted  in  spirals,  whitened  by  half- 
dried  layers  of  mud,  like  feet  of  elephants  that  had 
long  splashed  through  Indian  j  ungles.  Many  of  these 
Jews,  the  younger  ones  especially,  had  the  hair  parted 
on  the  forehead,  and  a  long  curl  hanging  behind  the 
ear,  a  bit  of  dandyism  which  made  a  contrast  to  their 
horrible  un cleanliness.  It  was  no  longer  the  handsome 
Oriental  Jew,  the  heir  of  the  patriarchs,  possessed  still 
of  his  Biblical  rank,  but  the  horrid  Polish  Jew,  given 
over  in  the  mud  to  all  sorts  of  suspicious  trades  and 
sordid  industries.  And  yet,  therein  the  lamplight  with 
their  meagre  faces,  their  sharp,  restless  eyes,  their  beards 
forked  like  a  fish's  tail,  their  shabby  aspect,  and  their 
general  tone  of  sour  herring  dried  in  the  smoke,  they 
recalled  the  pictures  and  the  etchings  of  Remljrandt. 

Custom  did  not  seem  to  be  very  brisk  in  this  estab- 
lishment. In  dark  corners  could  be  observed  indeed  a 
few  individuals  slowly  drinking  a  glass  of  tea  or  of 
Todka  ;  but  of  solid  food,  not  a  vestige.  My  compan- 
ion, who  understood  and  spoke  both  German  and 
Polish,  inquired  of  the  master  of  the  place  if  there  were 
no  way  of  procuring  for  me  some  kind  of  a  meal.  The 
question  seemed  to  surprise  him.  It  was  the  da}^  fol- 
lowing the  Jewish  Sabbath  ;  nothing  had  been  left  over 
from  last  week,  anM,  for  some  reason,  the  supply  for  the 
day  had  been  devoured  to  the  last  crumb.  Ilowcver, 
he  w^as  touched  by  my  famished  appearance.  His  pautry 
15 


338  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

was  empty,  tliokitclien-fire  was  out ;  but  next  door,  per- 
haps, bread  could  be  obtained.  lie  went  to  give  order?, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  I  saw  appear  among  this  heap  of 
human  rags,  a  young  girl  bearing  in  triumph  a  sort  of 
flat  cake.  She  was  a  Jewess  of  marvellous  beauty,  the 
Rebecea  of  Ivanhoe,  the  Rachel  of  La  Juive,  a  very 
sun,  radiant  as  the  alchemists'  macrocosm,  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  gloomy  room.  Eleazar  at  the  well  would 
have  eiven  her  Isaac's  ring  of  betrothal.  She  was  the 
purest  type  of  her  race  that  one  ever  dreamed  of,  a  real 
flower  of  Bible  times,  blooming  by  some  strange  chance 
amid  these  vile  surroundings.  The  Sulamite  of  Sir 
Ilasirim  was  not  more  orientially  bewildering.  What 
gazelle  eyes,  what  delicately  aquiline  nose,  what  beauti- 
ful lips,  red  as  twice-dyed  Syrian  crimson,  outlined  upon 
the  soft  pallor  of  the  skin !  how  exquisite  the  oval  from 
brow  to  chin,  made  to  be  framed  in  the  traditional 
bandelet ! 

She  presented  the  bread  to  me,  smiling  like  one  of 
those  daughters  of  the  desert  who  incline  their  water- 
jars  to  the  parched  lips  of  the  traveller ;  and,  absorbed 
in  looking  at  her,  I  never  dreamed  of  accepting  it.  A 
faint  color  came  into  her  cheek  as  she  saw  my  admira- 
tion, and  she  set  down  the  bread  upon  the  corner  of  the 
table. 

I  sighed  in  my  heart,  as  I  remembered  that  the  age 
for  impassioned  folly  was  over  for  me.  My  eyes  all 
dazzled  by  the  radiant  a]3parition,  I  began  to  nibble  my 
bread — which  was  at  the  same  time  underdone  and 
burned — but  which  seemed  to  mo,  as  delicious  as  if  it 
had  come  from  the  Viennese  bakery  in  the  Rue  de 
Richelieu  ! 

There  was  no  further  inducement  to  remain;  the  fair 
Jewess  had  gone  away,  making  the  smoky  hall  yet  more 
gloomy  by  her  departure.  So,  with  a  sigh,  I  returned 
to  the  telega,  saying  to  myself  that  ^t  was  not  always 
jewel-<iases  of  velvet  that  contained  the  richest  pearls  k 

We  soon  reached  the  river  Dwina,  which  we  were  to 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  339 

cross.  The  sliores  are  higli,  and  the  descent  to  the  level 
of  the  water  is  nirtde  by  plank  slopes  which  are  steep 
enough  to  remind  one  of  "  Hussian  mountains."  Ilap- 
])ily,  postilions  are  skilful,  and  the  little  Ukraine  lioi-se 
is  sure-footed.  We  came  safe  to  the  foot  of  the  descent, 
where  in  the  darkness  we  heard  the  waters  boil  and 
roar.  There  is  neither  bridge  of  boats  nor  ferry  where- 
by to  cross,  but  an  arrangement  of  plaidc-covered  rafts 
set  end  t6  end,  and  bound  together  by  cables  ;  thus  con- 
structed, the  bridge  yields  better  to  the  swollen  waters, 
rising  and  falling  with  them.  The  passage,  though 
without  real  danger,  seems  threatening  enough.  The 
river,  greatlj'  increased  in  volume  by  the  melting  snows, 
flowed  full  to  the  brim,  and  chafed  against  the  obstacle 
which  the  rafts  offered,  stretcliing  the  cables  to  their 
utmost  tension.  Water  and  the  night  easily  become 
terrifying  and  mysterious.  Lights,  which  appeared  I 
know^iot  whence,  moved  about  like  phosphoric  serpents ; 
the  foamy  waves  threw  back  strange  sparkles  which 
made  the  blackness  more  intense ;  we  seemed  to  be 
floating  upon  a  gulf,  and  it  was  with  a  sentiment  of  sat- 
isfaction that  I  felt  myself  again  on  land,  borne  along 
by  the  horses,  who  climbed  the  slope  almost  as  rapidly 
as  they  had  descended  it  on  the  other  bank. 

Imagine  us  resuming  our  headlong  ])ace  through  the 
gray  darkness,  discerning  nothing  but  vague  shapes 
effaced  from  the  memory  as  promptly  as  they  pass  be- 
fore the  eyes,— of  which  it  is  impossible  to  give  any 
description.  These  undefined  visions,  which  arise  and 
vanish  in  the  rapidity  of  our  motion,  are  not  without  a 
charm;  you  seem  to  gallop  athwart  a  dream.  You  seek 
to  penetrate  with  your  gaze  the  vague  darkness,  downy 
'  like  sheets  of  wadding,  in  which  every  outline  is  blurred, 
every  object  only  makes  a  stain  of  darker  color. 

I  thought  of  the  beautiful  Jewish  girl,  whose  face  I 
strove  to^  engrave  upon  my  memory,  going  over  it  line 
by  line  before  the  sketch  had  become  efl'aced,  and  I 
made  an  effort  to  remember  how  she  was  dressed,  but 


340  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

without  success.  Ilei-  beauty  had  so  dazzled  me  that  I 
had  seen  nothing  but  her  head.  All  the  rest  lay  in 
shadow.  The  light  was  concentrated  upon  herself,  and 
had  she  been  clad  in  gold  brocade  wrought  with  pearls, 
I  should  have  observed  it  no  more  than  if  it  had  been 
rags  of  calico. 

With  dawn  the  weather  changed  and  went  back 
decidedly  to  winter.  The  snow  began  to  fall,  but  this 
time  in  large  flakes ;  one  layer  succeeded  another,  and 
soon,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  the  country  was  all  in 
white.  Every  moment  we  were  forced  to  shake  our- 
selves not  to  be  covered  in  our  telega,  but  it  was  labor 
lost ;  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  powdered  anew  like 
tartlets  sugared  by  tJie  pastry-cook.  These  silvery 
feathers  flew  past  each  other,  caught  together,  arose, 
descended,  blown  by  the  wind.  You  would  have  said 
tliat  countless  down-beds  were  emptied  from  the  aerial 
heights,  and  in  this  whiteness  you  could  not  see  four  paces 
before  3^ou.  The  little  horses  shook  their  dishevelled 
manes  vv'ith  vexation.  The  desire  to  get  out  of  the 
storm  lent  them  wings,  and  they  galloped  at  the  top  of 
their  speed  towards  the  relay,  in  spite  of  the  resistance 
offered  to  the  wheels  by  the  newly  fallen  snow. 

"  1  have  a  strange  passion  for  the  snow;  nothing 
pleases  me  so  well  as  this  iced  poudre  de  riz  which 
makes  the  earth's  brown  face  white.  This  virginal, 
immaculate  whiteness,  in  which  there  are  scintillating 
specks  as  in  Parian  marble,  seems  to  me  preferable  to 
the  ricliest  tints  ;  and  when  I  tread  a  snow-covered  road, 
1  seem  to  myself  to  be  walking  the  silver  sands  of  the 
milky  way.  But  this  time  it  must  be  confessed  my 
taste  was  over-satisfied,  and  m}^  position  upon  the  telega 
began  to  be  no  longer  tenal)le.  Even  my  friend,  im- 
passive as  he  was,  and  habituated  to  the  rigors  of  hyper- 
borean journeys,  admitted  that  it  would  be  more 
comfortable  to  be  seated  beside  a  stove  in  a  very  snug 
room,  or  even  in  a  simple  travelling-coach,  if  a  coach 
could  move  in  such  weather. 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  34 1 

Tlie  affair  soon  degenerated  into  a  snow-blow.  There 
is  nothing  more  singular  than  this  storm  of  plush.  The 
wind  blows  low,  brushing  the  earth,  and  sweeps  the  snow 
before  it  Avith  irresistible  violence.  Puffs  of  white 
smoke  whirl  along  the  ground — icy  smoke,  escaping 
from  some  polar  conflagration.  When  this  water-spout 
of  snow  meets  a  wall,  it  heaps  itself  up  against  it,  soon 
overpasses  it,  and  falls,  a  miniature  cascade,  on  the  other 
side.  In  an  instant,  ditches  and  beds  of  brooks  are 
lilled  lip,  roads  disappear,  and  are  only  found  again, 
thanks  to  the  indicating  posts.  If  you  stood  still  you 
would  be  buried  in  Ave  or  six  minutes.  Under  the 
power  of  the  wind  which  carries  these  immense  loads 
of  snow,  the  trees  sway,  poles  are  bent  over,  animals 
lower  their  heads.     It  is  the  Jchamsin  of  the  steppes. 

This  time  the  danger  was  not  great ;  it  was  da^^ight, 
the  amount  of  snow  fallen  was  inconsiderable,  and  we 
had  the  show  almost  without  the  danger.  But  in  the 
night  this  snow-blow  may  easily  take  you  off  your  road 
and  bury  you  alive. 

Sometimes  went  by,  through  this  whiteness,  like  shreds 
of  black  cloth,  troops  of  crows  or  ravens  blown  before 
the  wind,  powerless  and  capsized  upon  their  wings. 
Also  we  met  two  or  three  carts  of  mujiks  fleeing  from 
the  storm,  and  trying  hard  to  get  to  shelter. 

It  was  with  real  satisfaction  that  we  saw  through  these 
cross-lines  of  chalk,  scratched  in  every  direction,  the 
post-house  with  its  Grecian  portico  appear  faintly  on 
the  side  of  the  road.  Never  did  architecture  look  to 
me  more  sublime  !  To  leap  from  the  telega,  to  shake 
the  snow  from  our  pelisses,  and  to  make  our  way  into 
the  travellers'  room,  was  the  affair  of  an  instant.  At 
the  relay-houses  the  samovar  is  in  a  state  of  perpetual 
ebnllition,and  a  few  swallows  of  tea,  as  hot  as  my  mouth 
could  endure  it,  speedily  re-established  the  circulation 
of  my  blood,  svhich  had  been  a  little  chilled  by  so  many 
hours  passed  in  the  open  air. 

"  I  would  undertake  with  you  a  voyage  of  discovery 


342  A  WINTER  m  RUSSIA. 

to  the  north  pole,"  my  friend  said  to  me ;  "  I  believe 
you  would  be  a  charming  companion  in  winter-cpiarters. 
How  happy  we  might  be  in  a  snow-hut,  with  a  good 
store  of  pemmican  and  bears'  hams !  " 

"  Your  a])proval  touches  me,"  I  said, "  for  I  know  you 
are  not  disposed  to  be  a  flatterer ;  but  now  that  I  have 
proved  my  fortitude  against  jolts  and  cold  weather, 
there  would  be  no  cowardice,  I  think,  in  seeking  a  more 
comfortable  method  of  continuing  our  journey." 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  if  they  have  not  some  vehicle  less 
exposed  to  elemental  rigors,  than  this.  Heroism  un- 
called-for is  mere  bragging." 

The  court-3^ard,  half  full  of  snow  which  they  were 
vainly  trying  with  brooms  and  shovels  to  throw  up  in 
corners,  presented  a  grotesque  appearance.  Telegas, 
tarantasses,  and  droschlcys  were  crowded  together,  rais- 
ing their  shafts  in  air  like  lateen-yards  and  masts  of 
half -submerged  vessels.  Behind  all  this  pi-imitive  col- 
lection of  vehicles,  I  discovered, — through  the  whirlwind 
of  white  points  sown  broadcast  by  the  breath  of  the 
tempest, — like  the  back  of  a  whale  stranded  in  the  surf, 
tlie  leather  a]n'on  of  an  old  caleche,  which,  notwith- 
standing its  dilapidated  condition,  seemed  to  me  a  very 
ark  of  safety.  They  pushed  away  the  vehicles,  it  was 
towed  out  into  the  middle  of  the  yard,  and  we  were 
able  to  satisfy  ourselves  that  the  wlieels  were  in  good 
condition,  the  springs  sufficiently  strong,  and  if  the  win- 
dows did  not  close  exactly,  at  least  there  were  none  of 
tliem  missing.  To  tell  the  truth,  it  was  not  a  veliicle 
wherewith  to  shine  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  ;  but  as  I 
was  not  proposing  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  lake,  and 
bid  for  the  admiration  of  the  ladies,  I  was  ver}'^  glad 
that  they  were  willing  to  let  it,  to  go  as  far  as  the  llus- 
sian  frontier. 

The  installing  of  our  pei'sons  and  onr  trunks  in  this 
"  wooden  shoe  "  occupied  but  a  fevv'  minutes,  and  we  set 
off  at  the  usual  pace,  slackened  a  little,  however,  by  the 
violence  of  the  \viud,  which  drove  whirlwinds  of  icy  dust 


BETUBN  TO  FEANCE.  3i3 

before  it.  Although  we  had  all  the  windows  shut,  there 
was  soon  a  line  of  snow  upon  the  unoccupied  seat.  Noth- 
ing can  keep  out  this  inpalpable  white  powder,  braj'ed 
and  triturated  hy  the  tempest ;  like  the  sand  of  Sahara, 
it  enters  through  the  smallest  cranny,  penetrates  even  to 
the  inside  of  your  watch.  But  we  were  no  Sybarites, 
to  complain  of  a  crumpled  rose-leaf,  and  we  enjoyed 
with  thorough  gratification  this  coni^mrative  comfort. 
One  at  least  could  lean  his  back  and  his  head  agaiiist  the 
old  green-cloth  lining ;  it  was  not  very  well-stuffed,  it 
is  true,  but  it  was  infinitely  superior  to  the  sides  of  the 
telega.  One  might  even  sleep  without  danger  of  falling 
and  fracturing  his  skull. 

We  profited  by  the  situation  to  doze  a  little,  each  in 
his  corner,  but  without  abandoning  ourselves  too  much 
to'  somnolence,  which  is  sometimes  dangerous  at  tem- 
peratures so  low,  for  the  mercury  had  now  fallen  to 
6°  or  8°,  under  the  influence  of  the  icy  wind.  By 
degrees,  however,  the  storm  abated,  the  particles  of 
snow  suspended  in  the  air  fell,  and  one  could  see  the 
whole  landscape  white  as  far  as  the  horizon.  The 
weather  moderated  extremely,  and  the  thermometer 
rose  to  20°  or  22°,  a  temperature  quite  spring-like  for 
Russia  at  this  season  of  the  year.  We  crossed  the  Yilia, 
wJiich  falls  into  the  Nienien  near  Kowno,  by  means  of 
a  ferry,  and  arrived  at  the  city,  which  looked  quite 
well,  freshly  powdered  with  the  new-fallen  snow.  The 
post-house  stood  in  a  fine  square,  surrounded  by  regular 
buildings  and  adorned  with  trees  which  for  the  moment 
wore  all  white  like  ramifications  of  quicksilver.  Bell- 
towers  shaped  like  onions  and  like  pine-apples  "appeared 
here  and  there  over  the  tops  of  the  houses;  but  I  had 
neither  time  nor  the  courage  to  go  and  visit  the  churches 
whose  presence  they  betrayed. 

After  a  light  lunch  of"  tea  and  sandwiches,  we  had 
the  horses  put  in,  in  order  to  cross  the  Nienicn  by  day, 
and  the  day  is  not  very  long  in  this  latitude  in  the 
month  of  February.     Many  vehicles  of  different  kinds. 


344  A  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA. 

telegas,  and  carts  were  crossing  the  river  at  the  same 
time  with  ourselves,  and  midway  of  the  passage,  the 
yellow,  turbulent  flood  almost  came  up  to  the  madriers 
bordering  the  boats  which  yielded  under  pressure  and 
came  up  again  as  the  teams  drew  near  the  farther 
shore.  If  any  horse  had  been  frightened,  nothing 
would  have  been  easier  than  to  be  overset,  arms  and 
baggage,  into  the  stream ;  but  Kussian  horses,  fiery  as 
they  are,  are  very  gentle,  and  not  alarmed  by  such 
trifles. 

A  few  minutes  later,  we  were  galloping  towards 
the  frontier  of  Prussia,  which  we  hoped  to  reach  in  the 
night,  despite  the  groanings  and  creakings  emitted  by 
our  poor  caleche,  shaken  up  rudely  enough,  but  holding 
firm  for  all  that,  and  not  leaving  us  basely  in  the  road. 

And,  in  fact,  about  eleven  o'clock,  we  drew  near  the 
first  Prussian  outpost,  whence  we  were  to  send  back  the 
carriage  to  the  relay  where  we  had  hired  it. 

"  Now,"  said  my  friend,  "  since  our  acrobatic  per- 
formances are  over,  it  would  be  well  to  take  supper, 
tranquilly,  and  to  apply  some  lotion  to  our  faces, 
that  we  may  not  resemble  spectres  when  we  arrive  in 
Paris." 

It  will  readily  be  believed  that  I  offered  no  objection 
to  this  discourse,  brief  but  full  of  matter,  and  reproduc- 
ing perfectly  my  own  inner  convictions. 

When  I  was  a  small  boy,  I  used  to  imagine  that  the 
frontiers  of  countries  were  marked  upon  the  soil  by  a 
blue,  red,  or  green  line  as  they  are  on  the  maps.  It  was 
a  childish  fancy  ;  but  though  it  be  not  traced  with  a  pen- 
cil, the  line  of  demarcation  is  not  less  clear  and  well- 
marked.  At  the  place  indicated  by  a  white  post  striped 
diagonally  with  black,  Russia  ended  and  Prussia  began 
in  a  sudden  and  complete  fashion.  Neither  country 
seemed  to  have  affected  its  neighbor  in  the  slightest  de- 
gree. 

We  were  conducted  into  a  low  hall  furnished  with  a 
great    porcelain    stove,    which    roared    harmoniously. 


RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  345 

The  floor  was  strewii  with  yellow  sand ;  a  few  framed 
engi-avings  adorned  the  walls ;  the  tables  and  chairs  were 
of  "German  construction,  and  tall,  stout  servant-maids 
came  to  set  the  table.  It  liad  been  long  since  I  had 
seen  women  occupied  with  those  domestic  cares  which 
seem  the  appanage  of  their  sex ;  in  Eussia,  as  in  the 
East,  the  house- work  is  done  by  men,  or,  at  least,  all  that 
appears  of  it. 

The  cicisine  was  no  longer  the  same.  Instead  of 
chtchi,  caviare,  salted  cucumbers,  gelinottes,  and  soit- 
dacs,  there  was  beer-soup,  veal  with  dried  currants, 
hare  with  gooseberry  jelly,  and  the  sentimental  German 
pastry.  Everything  was  different:  tlie  shape  of  the 
glasses  and  the  knives  and  forks,  a  thousand  little 
details  which  it  would  be  tedious  to  describe,  reminded 
us  at  every  instant  that  this  was  another  country.  We 
made  a  substantial  repast,  accompanied  by  Bordeaux 
wine — which  proved  to  be  good  in  spite  of  its  showy 
label  printed  in  colored  inks — and  a  quille  of  Rudes- 
heimer  poured  out  into  emerald-colored  glasses. 

All  the  while  we  were  at  dinner,  I  exhorted  myself 
to  keep  my  voracity  within  limits,  that  I  might  not  die 
of  indigestion  like  people  rescued  from  a  shipwreck, 
who,  their  slender  store  of  biscuit  being  exhausted,  have 
been  forced  to  eat  the  leather  of  their  shoes  and  the 
gutta-percha  of  their  suspenders ! 

It  would  have  been  wise,  no  doubt,  to  content  one's  self 
with  a  plate  of  soup  and  a  sop  of  bread  dipped  in  Mala- 
ga wine,  and  so  accustom  one's  self  gradually  to  food 
again.  But  no  matter !  my  supper  is  in  my  stomach, 
and  there  let  it  rest !  Let  us  hope  it  will  cause  me  no 
remorse. 

Costumes  are  changed,  too ;  at  Kowno  we  saw  the 
last  touloupe;  and  types  are  as  dissimilar  as  clothes. 
Instead  of  the  undecided,  pensive,  gentle  Russian, — here 
is  the  rigid,  methodical,  serious  Prussian ;  an  entirely 
different  race.  The  little  cap  with  a  visor,  crushed 
down  over  the  forehead,  the  short  frock-coat,  and  trousers 


346  A, WINTER  m  BUSSIA. 

tio-lit  at  the  knees  and  wide  in  the  legs,  between  the 
lips  a  23orcelain  or  meerschaum  pipe,  or  a  cigar-holder, 
with  an  odd  elbow  in  it  holding  the  cigar  at  a  right 
angle  : — such  were  the  Prussians  as  they  appeared  to  us 
at  the  first  post ;  they  did  not  surprise  me,  for  I  knew 
them  before. 

The  vehicle  in  which  we  took  our  seats  resembled 
the  small  omnibus  that  they  send  from  French  chateaux 
to  the  railway,  for  guests  who  are  expected  to  dinner. 
It  was  suitably  cushioned,  very  well  closed  from  the  air, 
and  well  hung ;  at  least  so  it  seemed  after  the  trip  in 
the  telega  which  we  had  first  made,  and  -which  fairly 
represents  that  punishment  of  the  stra/ppaclo  in  use  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  Bat  what  a  difference  between  the  fran- 
tic speed  of  the  little  Russian  horses  and  the  phlegmatic 
trot  of  the  great,  hea^y  Mecklenburgs,  who  appeared  to 
be  falling  asleep  as  they  walked,  and  whom  a  caress 
from  the  whip,  carelessly  applied  upon  their  fat  backs, 
seems  scarcely  to  awaken.  The  German  horses  doubt- 
less understand  the  Italian  proverb  :  Chi  va  j)iano  va 
sano.  They  meditate  upon  it  as  they  lift  their  big  feet, 
and  they  leave  off  the  second  part:  Chi  va  sano  va 
lontano  /  for  the  Prussian  posts  are  nearer  together  than 
the  Russian. 

However,  one  arrives  at  last,  even  if  he  does  not  move 
very  quickly,  and  the  morning  overtook  us  not  far  from 
Xonigsberg,  upon  a  road  bordered  by  great  trees  as  far 
as  the  e,ye  could  see,  which  looked  like  a  veritable  fairy- 
land. The  snow  had  frozen  upon  the  branches,  and  out- 
lined the  most  minute  ramifications  with  a  diamond- 
ed crystal  of  wondrous  splendor.  The  avenue  had  the 
appearance  of  an  immense  arbor  of  silver  filigree,  lead- 
ing to  the  enchanted  chateau  of  some  fairy  of  the  North. 

You  see  how  it  was — the  snow,  knowing  my  love  for 
her,  at  the  moment  when  she  was  about  to  leave  me, 
lavished  all  her  magic  power,  and  regaled  me  with  her 
finest  display.  Winter  came  as  far  as  possible,  and  left 
us  with  the  greatest  reluctance. 


■  RETURN  TO  FRANCE.  347 

There  is  notliinj]^  very  gay  in  the  aspect  of  Konigs- 
berg,  at  least  at  this  season  of  the  j^ear.  The  win^^ers 
are  severe,  and  the  vi^indows  still  retained  their  double 
glass.  I  noticed  many  houses  with  stair-shaped  gables, 
and  fa9adc3  painted  apple-green,  and  sustained  by 
highly  wrought  S's  of  iron  work,  as  at  Lubeck.  It  is 
the  land  of  Ivant,  who,  by  his  Essay  upon  Pure  Eeason, 
brouglit  philosophy  down  to  its  essence.  I  imagined 
that  1  saw  him,  as  we  turned  each  corner,  with  his  iron- 
gray  coat,  his  three-cornered  hat,  and  his  Ijuckled  shoes  ; 
and  I  remembered  the  trouble  that  invaded  his  medita- 
tions from  the  absence  of  the  slender  poplar  tree,  which 
somebody  had  cut  down,  upon  which,  for  more  than 
twenty  years,  he  had  had  the  habit  of  fixing  his  eyes 
during  his  profound  metaphysical  reveries. 

We  went  straight  to  the  station,  and  we  took,  each  of 
us,  a  corner  of  the  railway-carriage.  It  is  no  part  of 
my  plan  to  describe  a  journey  by  rail  through  Prussia. 
There  is  nothing  very  interesting  about  it,  especially 
when  you  do  not  stop  at  any  of  the  cities,  and  we  went 
through  to  Cologne,  where,  for  the  first  time,  the  snow 
left  us.  There,  as  the  trains  did  not  connect,  we  were 
obliged  to  stop  for  a  few  liours,  and  profited  by  this  de- 
lay to  devote  ourselves  to  the  indispensable  duties  of  the 
toilette,  tliat  we  might  resume  in  some  degree  the  hu- 
man aspect,  for  we  looked  like  veritable  Samoyeds  come 
to  show  off  our  reindeer  upon  the  Neva. 

The  rapidity  of  our  telega  journey  had  produced  an 
odd  variety  of  damages  in  ni}'  trunks :  tlie  wax  had  fallen 
off  my  boots  and  showed  the  bare  leather ;  a  box  of  excel- 
lent cigars  was  no  longer  anything  h\\t2'>olvo  sevUlano^ 
reduced  to  fine  yellow  dust  by  the  jolting  it  had  endured  ; 
seals  of  letters  entrusted  to  me  were  rubbed  off  or 
broken  by  excessive  friction  ;  neither  armorial  bearings, 
nor  cipher,  nor  impression  of  any  kind  could  be  made 
out.  Many  of  the  envelopes  were  open.  There  was 
snow  among  my  shirts !  Order  re-established,  I  went 
to  bed,  after  an  excellent  supper,  and  the  morrow,  five 


348  ^  WINTER  IN  RUSSIA, 

days  from  the  date  of  my  departm-e  from  St.  Peters- 
burg, I  arrived  in  Paris,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
according  to  my  formal  promise.  I  was  not  five  minutes 
behind  time.  A  coupe  awaited  me  at  the  station,  and, 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  I  found  myself  surrounded 
by  old  friends  and  pretty  women,  before  a  table  brilliant 
with  lights,  whereon  a  fine  supper  was  smoking ;  and 
my  return  was  celebrated  gayly  until  the  morning. 


THE  END. 


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